Limited Social work

I don't have the faintest idea what pushed me to be in the position, what  I  am in today. Coming from a middle class, to study was the only agenda and there was no alternative. All the boys coming from the families around, too probably belonged to the same status economically and value-wise, so no deterrent there, thus all the friends were similarly study minded,  hard-working and having a fixed goal of getting good marks in the finals. It was like a stream with definite flow speed and direction and you were not supposed to fight against it, it was accepted norm. So in the due course, we all graduated with really good marks, shone in our respective fields, and braced ourselves for the second point on agenda, ' To earn a livelihood and amass enough money for trouble-free independent old age.' The money came in incidentally, there was no fixed plan or greed to procure it. Like any MD in my times, Independent practice was the logo of the day so went for it and money just came in, enough for the standards expected off a consultant by the society. There was no time to look around. Socially inclined mates were not from the inner circle. Definitely felt differently about them, but neither there was awe nor even repulsion, only indifference. I don't know whether that was the start of uneasiness that I feel today!

Chanced to meet youth from interiors of backward Maharashtra, where my MD Doctor friend's father had died of dehydration after diarrhoea for want of simple IV fluids and the lack of good medical facilities in the perimeter of 50 miles around!

Santosh Garje in his late twenties had to come to Mumbai to collect donations for an orphanage that he runs for around 100 children, 150 km away from district place of Beed. He along with his friend stayed with us for 3 days and I could get a glimpse of how hard, life could be.

Coming from a family of landless labourers, he mooted the idea of starting an orphanage at the age of 18 single-handedly after his sister died due to atrocities of her husband. The brother in law did not stop at that, remarried within short time discarding the girl child. His father went in such a profound shock that he left the home on pilgrimage never to return. Though partly educated at that time Santosh did not lose faith in society and most importantly in himself, so started an orphanage with 7 children to start with. And then there was a rocky ride for many years to come. Right from, the threats from the goons to demands of signing authorities to grease the palms, he went through every hurdle with his head held high but a heart full of compassion. Today his orphanage shelters girls who require separate building and he is short of funds. Me and my family especially my wife Shubha do try to help him for his cause but her efforts do have limitations.

Deities who really do not come to rescue in our difficult times, get money, gold and whatnot in crores but people like Santosh have to beg for alms to run an Ashram for destitute. 

And there lies the cause for my unexplained uneasiness. Do we as a class have restricted ourselves to limited social work? Donate few rupees and responsibility towards society is over. Don't know what's the deterrent but thought many times to leave everything and join some ashram to offer my expertise. Is it the insecurity, typically middle class,'If it fails!' where would I go then?  What about MY old age? Probably we all are stuck in the same rut to varying extents. And the thought increases my uneasiness further. The only way out then maybe, to help likes of Santosh more and exercise our limited social work!

Judiciary

Judicial systems all over the world are contrived to take into consideration the local customs, culture, religion and so many other things to dole out the justice to the wronged parties. That's the broad principle for laying down the laws and rules by learned people who profess to know better, to be followed by the common man on the street. Thus these laws not only vary from country to country but in countries like the US of A from state to state, which to a certain extent is applicable to India also. The entire machinery that goes into it, for it to work smoothly, is managed by human beings like you and me. The bar of humanitarianism, integrity, intelligence and logic is expected to be so high that at the lower end of the hierarchy, it seems to be in want direly everywhere, including developed countries. The posts at the lowest level are taken by people who may not be qualified for the post simply because they lack the higher skills and proficiency for higher posts so they are there in these posts. And the struggle of the common man seeking justice for the right cause starts at this lowest level. This half baked human barrier simply does not allow the case to go further with their myopic views and blinds worn preventing them to see beyond.

It so happened once that I was hit while driving my car, from behind on left side by a teenager cyclist that made hardly any sound. I continued to drive thinking it to be a road bump. A constable came searching for me in my hospital when I was busy seeing a patient requiring urgent attention. He alleged that I had knocked the cyclist down, which naturally came to me as a surprise. On knowing the details I tried to argue with him to put my point forward that according to Motor Vehicle Act if somebody hits you from behind on the left side, it's not the fault of car driver but is of the one who bangs from behind. He did not listen to my side of the story and was stubborn enough to push his point relentlessly. In the end, I gave up and said 'Do whatever you want to do'. End of the story: For no fault of mine I had to attend court neglecting my duties at clinic, wasting valuable time and paying fine of Rs 500/-  unnecessarily because the peg at the lowest level was ignorant of the law and was adamant enough to teach me a lesson!

I agree, this incidence is extremely trivial, but if you stretch the imagination, it could be projected to enormous proportions, at times even unthinkable levels!

I feel the entire machinery has a human face, and that, it has to have. But it could be its boon and bane at the same time. Even if the laws are laid down for the betterment, they are made by humans only to be followed by humans. So at every level from application to execution of the said laws, Human factor is going to affect the ultimate outcome. So the Police are going to have its own bias, lawyers their own including the ultimate in the system the Judge, who would not be a robot! Unfortunately in the system made by the humans, this entire set has put itself on such a high pedestal that you just can not utter even 'D' of the word dissent to reach them. In the US of States, once the lowest wrung of this hierarchy declares you to be  ' An Enemy of the State', entire Patriotic America is after you for your blood.
So far I always have been on the right side of the line. So far so good, but to say that I am bothered by the recent assaults on the medical professionals would be an understatement. Petrified would be too dramatic but scared, definitely that I am. After 45 years in the field and 35 years in direct practice, I keep on dreading when would be my turn next? The surroundings have become so volatile and vicious that it's a question of only one spark! In such a situation to whom should, I turn to? I am a senior professional with vast experience in the field. And if at all a case arises, I would be questioned by a junior may be a senior lawyer, who really have not studied medicine to my depth, about my credentials in the field. How much fair it would be in the broader sense? One professional being questioned by another having the least knowledge about other's field. If everything is going to depend on paperwork and circumstantial evidence Doctors would be left with nothing but the clerical work more than to practise their acquired skills.  
In a much much broader sense, how far is it feasible for any human being to prosecute another human being when everything is unclear and blurred and the laws are variable at the most! It boils down to the opinion of one or few according to the present system. It's injustice meted out to an individual by majority, Brutal, under the guile of law. I don't know the answer, I don't have the solution and I do believe in the integrity of today's system but .... isn't there a big question mark? 

Court

I love to go for movies, and love to watch them on a big screen. Any, off the tract movie I seldom miss. So it was natural that I beelined for 'Court', award-winning Marathi movie. As such I have a soft corner for Marathi movies so many a time I have watched them either alone in a multiplex or in the company of not more than 10 patrons. 'Court' definitely drew decent crowd but it was prime time slot on Sunday!

I would love to dissect, not analyse, the movie on two levels. It's real worth and it's award-winning status. I am feeling sad to do so but that's it, dissection.

To start, I felt like I ended up paying for a very slow, not much to reveal, without any shockers in the plot, a documentary that ended so abruptly that, it was the only twist in the entire narration. I don't know where it lost that bite but as it went along it never caught me by my neck and made me swirl in my seat with uneasiness. The narration no doubt was without any pretensions but it lacked that zing, making it a totally bland dish. It just goes from one scene to another without really making any impact. And the shots linger so much that maybe a yawn escapes, especially in the scene where the court is adjourned for the day and attendant closes the room. Same for the last Arnala picnic. It drags on and on. On a different level, to show the difference between the statuses of Public prosecutor and the lawyer of the defendant, 'the dining out' scenes seemed contrived and mundane. For anybody in present-day Indian ethos with eyes widely open, it comes hardly as a shock, and the purpose of it serving as an eye-opener is totally lost without making any impact whatsoever. These are the realities of the day to day life that everybody is aware of and there is hardly any drama in it, to make it, into a full-length feature film. Made on the similar lines, about the futility and treachery of the Police and Judicial system, even in a country like US of A, 'Nothing but the truth' makes you cringe in the seat. Comparisons are always hideous but....    

It's so realistic that it does not pounce on you. You feel as if you have read a newspaper after morning's tea, leave everything at that and head for your daily chores forgetting about everything you read in a jiffy.  

On the second level: It has won President's Golden Lotus as an outstanding movie of the year. As a Marathi moviegoer, I felt extremely proud of it for two reasons. One, it being a Marathi movie and second, so far President's Awards are always held in high esteem!

Now is it really a Marathi movie? Of course, it's about Marathi but not in Marathi. And does it espouse the cause of Marathi? Many characters including the defence lawyer, never utter a word in Marathi. On the contrary, he wants the proceedings to be translated into a language other than Marathi. That too after living in Mumbai for life long! The court proceedings are conducted in Marathi accented English, naturally. So there goes half the chunk.

Awards! That's absolutely a different issue altogether. Manojkumar and Shankar Jaikishan getting them for 'Pehchan' was a big let down for a person like me who always felt that they should be always on merit! Shah Rukh Khan getting even nomination for ' Chennai Express' and ' Happy New Year' is an indication of, up to what level the standard has stooped.

So far President's awards were above this. Now I doubt! What criteria do they apply for selecting a movie for the highest slot is really bothersome. Or was the standard of other contenders was that dubious? 

Language Bridge or barrier ?

I really don't get why non-Marathi speaking Maharashtrians, as they love to call themselves, detest Marathi so much? They up their antennae at the drop of a hat whenever something positive is being considered about Marathi culture or Marathi in her own state. And they don't leave any stone unturned till they get everything their way. At times labelling pure love of the natives for their own culture and language parochial. Never heard of such clamour being whipped up In Chennai about Tamil or In Kolkatta about Bengali. Nobody simply dares! Why, here in Mumbai nobody raises an eyebrow even by a flicker when every other Punjabi Film star, especially male one, proclaims with vacuous pride that Punjabi blood flows through his veins and he is proud to be a Great Punjabi! Why then so much of hue and cry is being raised when Marathi cause is espoused by a Marathi government.

According to our constitution,  all major Indian languages are having equal status, and Hindi is NOT a national language as it is made out to be. BUT Marathi is definitely the STATE language and state must do everything to see to it that she gets her due status and respect. 

Everybody now days wants to have his/her way saying, 'It's my choice'. All these so-called Maharashtrians want their choice of not having Marathi Movie in Prime Time slot. Then what about the choice of a blue-blooded Marathi like me to watch Marathi movie at 6 PM slot when Multiplex owner is just not going to screen my choice of movie in that slot. And who knows if they start screening, maybe Marathi Movies will start giving their counterparts in other languages tough time! Or is it so, that's why these very people are afraid of the competition?

The real point is not a particular language. Human Larynx is only voice producing organ in the entire animal world, which can be modulated, intoned, emphasized to make different sounds using/ relaxing/ contracting correct muscles of vocal cords with input from the cerebral cortex. Such a mechanism , very complex one is the mother of all the Languages. The sound made by human larynx may be the same throughout the world, as though the races differ, laryngeal anatomy does not. But that sound takes meaning only when years of culture, history goes into it. Thus simple sound produced by any larynx in the world like 'Ma' has different meanings in different languages. So it does not stop at the language level when somebody objects to it. It's definitely an attack on the being of an individual. When I say I am Marathi then my being Marathi starts from way back in the 8th century. Decades of struggle, improvements, additions, omissions, writings, thoughts of authors, poets philosophers, saints along with the patrons who supported them have contributed to my being Marathi today.

Likes of Shobhaa De are not Marathis, in an interview for National Channel she could not speak barely two sentences in simple Marathi in one breath, she may be a Maharashtrian but definitely not Marathi. And they make the most noise about being 'True', whatever that means, Maharashtrian!
I sincerely used to believe in the dictum that language is just a mode of communication, but now I feel it's too simple in today's highly politicized world. The poser now is whether it is a bridge or barrier?

Pune: ongoing cascade of memories.

Thus, though Day Jee had a separatist aura around it, Pune proper too [ mostly Sadashiv, Shanwar Narayan ]  tried hard to project its elan especially when it came to, Nana, Guruwar or Vetal Peth. Camp always was different, as if it was never a part of Pune on this side of the world. Neither Day Jee nor Proper Puneites lagged behind in looking down upon east Pune but prided when they went to watch a Hollywood flick at the West End! It was THE thing to do! It was my long-cherished dream too, to visit 3 Coins restaurant on East street. It materialized late, late by 20 years but the pressure [ I am in 3 Coins !] was almost palpable.
Pune, east of Budhwar chowk was considered backward by Day Jee and Pune Proper! Maybe, it carried caste undertones too!  If somebody answered in accent from Satara or Sangli with a distinct drawl, it was met with 'You seem to be graduated from the University of Vegetable Market [Mandai in Marathi] ! ' an encounter full with typical Pune sarcasm!

The speciality of Day Jee was, Cozy bungalows lining Prabhat Roat and Karve Road. By lanes of Apte Road and Model colony were its rich cousins!
It was an abode for all that Marathi diaspora who, after toiling in cities like Mumbai and Delhi life long, wished to be cremated at Omkareshwar after the last breath.

 As if it was THE road in the entire universe, 80 Ft road, aka JM road now, was a piece of pride! So much so that Puneris used to sing a song, specially written in its praise !.
The words went something like these,
' Shama let's take a stroll on 80 feet road with poise and go to Sambhaji garden !'

Another soft point for Day Jee was cinema theatre 'Hindvijay'! Built in the 40s in Art Deco style of Miami's or Mumbai's Marine lines, but losing its battle with time in due course! Why only Day Jee, entire Pune was in love with that handsome structure. Painted in faint pink it had two towers on sides with a spacious decorated porch at the entrance. Doors had etched glasses and foyer had huge Belgian mirrors, like today's Liberty or Maratha Mandir of Mumbai. What it prided in, is lost in today's multiplex era. Screens in today's multiplexes are naked, nothing to hide. Hindvijay boasted in having pure velvet curtain in Burgundy red with golden circles at the lower border, covering the silver screen with due respect! It used to move sidewards with the grace of Cleopatra before the real show started in black and white. Eastman colour was years away!
In 57 Mutha flooded Pune beyond limits and waters reached Hindvijay too. I distinctly remember a visit to Hindvijay then, with the elders as it was a fashion in Pune in those days to visit flood-affected areas. I remember vividly that it was showing, Madhumati, starring Dilipkumar and Vyjayantimala,  with its poster pasted on the side walls.
Being prestigious cinema hall of Pune in those days it screened many hits from Hollywood as well as Bollywood. Though totally washed out in Panshet deluge, it rose like a phoenix again and showed big Hindi Hits like 'Sangam ' Waqt' for months together. It opened 70 mm screen for the 1st time in Pune with Shirley McClain starter, 'Can-Can ' a Hollywood flick with said dance as the theme. Now it had a curtain in Pure Gold colour that rolled upwards in elegant semicircles, again 1st in Pune !  6 tracks stereophonic sound too was a novelty then. I simply can not forget the train whistle of 'Where Eagles Dare' or the ear-splitting sound of planes hovering over the head in 'Battle of Bulge' even after 50 years. In the 70s it changed the hands. Shindes from Bengaluru renovated it and new 'Natraj' stood in its place. It neither had the charm of Hindvijay nor it was that good, it was just an adulterated copy of their 'Nartaki' cinema Hall at Bengaluru. Today that too has been erased from Pune's topography.
Down went Shrinath, Aryan, Minerva also. Once Alpana was Known as Shirin or Ratan as Paramount hardly anybody knew or cared. 
Not only these structures went down with the time but they took away a slice of Pune's history along with them.

Today Pune has everything that a normal modern city has. But that old world charm is lost somewhere along the lines. Once backward East Pune has gone much ahead of Day Jee and Pune Proper with its Multiplexes and Ultra-modern malls like Amanora, All season's mall or Phoenix city. But that's plastic. Real worth probably got washed away in Panshet deluge! 

Down the memory lane: Pune

Laxmi Road: To call it a road, is to insult the word 'Road'. Actually, it swiftly fitted the definition of gulley then too. It is really hard to imagine that PMT Bus No. 7 used to ply on this road. Both ways !! With a protruding snout-like bonnet, it used to look like a toy bus made from matchboxes, so we kids used to call it ' Kadepeti' [matchbox in Marathi. ]Because it used to zigzag through better localities of Pune, Camp to wit, it carried enigma in our eyes while the other one, No 2, used to ply between the same destinations, from Day Gee to Pune station but via a different route, held low esteem in our view, as it crossed through low brow areas of Pune. Say, Kasba Peth, Ravivar Peth Daruwala Pul, and Rasta Peth. Bus No 3 was the queen of all the routes because it used Tilak Road and prestigious 80 feet road to reach the station from Swargate. Later the routes were rearranged so No 3 became 4 while No 7 became 14. I don't know how are they now!
To count the buses passing through Kunte Chowk while sitting on the steps of our Wada was a favourite past time. To predict when the signal would turn green was another. It was a very peculiar traffic signal. Carton like  metal box was hung at the centre of the crossroads, with red and green glasses on each side. If Laxmi roadside had red ones on the upper side, the cross roadside had greens. The arrangement was totally reverse on the lower side. It had only 2 bulbs. So when the upper bulb was on, it was red for Laxmi Road traffic, while the crossroad had green signal. Exactly opposite was true for the lower bulb.
The crossroad from our Wada to Kunte chowk continued further down to Fadtare Chowk, where Chitales had a smallish shop, not more than 10 by 12 Ft dealing in dairy products. It later became today's big, bigger conglomerate the 'Chitale Bandhu'  much famous sweetmeat makers all over Maharashtra, maybe world [?amongst Marathi diaspora]! In the era when Refrigerator at home was a distant dream I had purchased 250 gm of yoghurt for 25 paise, and the same amount of pure butter for a rupee and 25 paise for years together. So much so that we had an account over there. I still remember Mr Wagh calling me across the counter and asking ' What little Benurwar has come for, today? ' The founder Mr Raghunathrao Chitale in his crisp white cotton dhoti, too was affectionate one, inquiring periodically about well being of my granny and home people. Bhel by Gajanan and Misal by Bedekar were other weak points for Puneites then. Today Chitale Bandhu have gone beyond cult, so much so that Gujrati Bakarwadi now is known as Chitale's Bakarwadi.

It is extremely difficult to define the word ' Puneri' and also the person carrying the nomenclature. In fact 'Puneri' and 'Punekar' are two different species altogether. The one who comes to Pune on the job, then falls in love with Pune and settles down here is a  Punekar [ Mostly Marathi Mumbaite but longing for Marathiness in Mumbai's cosmopolitan chaos ]   For him it takes very long to understand the nuanced Marathi of Pune, read sarcastic. So the one who has been nurtured only on waters of Mula and Mutha [ In real sense only Mutha, because Mula in those days was not in real Pune, it flows through distant Pimpri and Chinchwad, ] is 'Puneri'.  He need not be taught to speak, behave like a true Puneri, True Puneri is born, can never be made! Two drops of Mutha with gripe water and the child starts talking Puneri without a hitch!

More to follow.

Pune: Nostalgia

I am not that ancient to say, 'Pune was known as Punawadi when I stepped on its ground for the first time.' But The Pune in the late fifties was much different than what it is today when we decided to stay a put in Pune, as father's job in military accounts was transferable, which would have cost our education dearly. It's about 60 years now since then, and it has come to a state where you feel whether Pune has lost its identity and has become an extended suburb of Mumbai?

Parvati at its south, Khadki in the north, Camp towards east and Nal stop on the west were the boundaries then. Hingane, Hadapsar, Katraj had not become the parts of Pune and were considered villages on the outskirts. When for winter picnics we used to visit Aranyeshwar and Padmavati there was no pucca road and one had to go along the Talyatala Ganpati, below the aqueduct of Mutha's Right canal, through ankle-deep water. Thereafter it was cross country through fields to reach Aranyeshwar. For Padmavati few more fields on the feet. Much later during festive times corporation started bus services from Swargate but here too, you had to get down in the middle of now where and again walk down for a mile or so, to reach the temples. Today Big Bazaar is a bigger landmark than Padmavati and you really have to scout for the temple.

'Talyatala Ganpati' was Ganapati's shrine for the namesake in those days too. The lake surrounding it hardly had a drop of water. The road joining Mitra Mandal colony and Tilak road was just non-existent. Few arches, maybe from the Peshwa era, stood there but nobody was bothered about them as it was made dumping ground by truckers who carried debris. The bottom of the so-called lake was uneven. It had many humps those looked like pustules to me. My granny used to say they were rabbit holes but I could never see rabbits any time so I used to call it pustule land on which my mother used to reprimand me for calling names at God's land.

River Mutha had Left canal like the present Right one. It used to pass through Nal stop, Law College, Bhandarkar Institute. After taking a turn at BMCC it used to enter Ferguson College premises after making friends with Hanuman hill on the west. Thereafter it just vanished. It was said that in PuLa's time, water flew through it. But as far as I remember, the period from 1957 to 1975 it was always dry as a desert !

Maharshi Karve's Ashram at Hingane, Vitthalwadi, were picnic spots. On the way to Hingane the bus stop, Nal stop, was named after a tap connection for the locals. It was functional till late, now there is not a drop of water even for the most thirsty! Hingane Ashram today is lost in the concrete jungle. Today one has to search for it like going on a treasure hunt!

This was Pune exterior, what about Pune interior?

Settlement on the east bank of Mutha was Pune 'Proper' while on the west bank it was 'Day Jee.' short form for Deccan gymkhana. It was the citadel of Pune high brows. It was custom for these residents to say in faint nasal twang, when one had to cross the river to come on the east side, with the neck in a correct tilt and little furrow on the forehead between the brows to show annoyance with dignity,' Had gone to village side you know !' I don't know what they say today ! [ When my Mumbai friend told a South Mumbai snob belonging to the same genre that she stays in Matunga, "Not far from the town !" came the retort like a smashed shuttlecock! By her standards, we the residents of poor Ghatkopar must be aborigines from Andaman rain forests ! ]

Pune proper was ruled by 'Wada' culture and had innumerable gulleys. To reach the other end of these gulleys, used to be a Himalayan task even for the one on two feet! 'Bhau Maharajacha Bol' and 'Munjabacha Bol' of the lot were Pune's world-famous! I really wonder what relation Pune carries with this institution of gulleys. Recently I had driven my Juggernaut, i.e. SX 4 in one of these gulleys in Bibwewadi which is a brand new locality. But the roads? I had to restrain myself from uttering explicit while negotiating my car through that maze!  I really feel that Pune is still using the Peshwa yardsticks to build the roads.

" This is nothing 'Khatrud's roads are worse," he said trying to pacify me. I didn't get,
 " Khatrud?"

 " Kothrud! All Narayan Shanwar has shifted there, they are used to gulleys, allergic to bigger roads you know !" He probably did not belong to that part of the city. But point to ponder is, one Punekar saying such thing about another! It was beyond for Mumbaikar like me!

More to come

 

Alien amongst own

Being a vernac medium student, I was introduced to English literature a bit late, in the 1st year of college. No Hardy Boys or Famous Fives for me. I read Pearl Buck's, Nobel Prize winner 'The Good Earth' when I was 17 and was so enthralled that I did not realize it may come true for many of us in later years. Trials and tribulations of a simple Chinese peasant, in opium afflicted  Pre Mao China, his rise from poor land labour to big landlord and ultimately getting trapped again in the same scenario where his precede-rs went, in the opium jungle thereby bringing down his journey of life to square one, a story that is so universal that in a different sense it got repeated in my life too.

Coming from well-educated Landowners' family from father's side and aristocratic British servants' family from mother's side I can not say that we were absolutely 'Have nots'. But many a twist later due to situations beyond anybody's control we were left being a lower middle class family with not exactly hand to mouth but meagre existence in Pune's dilapidated Wada, where we had to share the toilet with 10 other families for morning ablutions. A simple case of Diarrhea was a nightmare in that situation.

Belonging to 3.5% population of Maharashtra, merit was the only way out from that ghetto. Hard work does not have an alternative so I could get admitted to Medical school with efforts and dedication, I must say at this juncture that, maybe genetically I was gifted so it became easier. I do not wish to go into the details but my father's true 'Zamindar' colours became imminent and we were left with difficult day to day existence as part of life. Though matriculate at that time my mother took the job of a school teacher, for which her take-home salary was Rs 20 a month. For Rs 3 a month she used to walk miles to take tuitions of wards of labourers in not so clean areas of Pune around today's Phule market. And thus I could finish my medical education on free ship as a ward of the primary school teacher.

Today when I sit in my 14th-floor apartment in a posh locality of Mumbai I am reminded of that Chinese Peasant from Pearl Buck's novel 'The Good Earth'. 

I too had to struggle to come to this status, many a time bodily, at times consuming time, at times even selling out soul while trying to remain afloat in strong counter currents. But everything achieved was on pure merit! Now I move around in a circle where they talk of Foreign jaunts, profit-making investments all the time. Women are never tired of talking about their new solitaires or nth piece of jewellery that lies on the top of the already existing pile. Many a time I am pulled in, reluctantly but without able to deny the fact, that I too belong, money-wise, status wise to THE group. To bring myself back to the reality I have to remind myself of my patients from downtrodden areas who simply can not afford to buy simple medicine or get essential but a bit expensive lab test done. And then I start wondering where do I stand in this chaos?

Just upping the tainted glasses of my air-conditioned car does not alienate me from the stark reality outside. But at the same time I feel, do I really belong there? Spitting, publicly urinating uneducated squatting lot but politically aware all the same. Too aware at times! The so-called social workers, read politicians in white clothes and shoes, amongst them, instigating them on trivial issues many times but really caring too hoots about them when it is necessary. I shudder,  I cringe when I have to deal with them. At times I am just scared. When thorough cleaning of the gulley was required, a temple came on the nullah with the patronage of a local politician within a flash of time adding to the filth and cacophony.  I had tried to put sense into pro porter but when temple went on becoming big, I had to withdraw just out of fear. In my own country! 

In my own profession too, now, you are there either because of your caste lineage or because your father has piled stacks of money in the backyard, merit taking a back seat! And I am scared to raise my voice against the discrepancies, though my kith and kin are being meted out unequal treatment, when opposite was guaranteed by the constitution, in my own country!

From 3.5%, highly educated, reached where I am today with my efforts and merit, as a sensitive intelligent individual, why I am feeling that I am an alien amongst my own!