Standing in front of the mirror, she places back the fallen strap.
Eyes kohl lined and lips rouged, a wink, a smile ensues
Hair left open, earrings dangle
She heads out, scented and stilletoed

Pulling out the note, a number neatly penned
She looks around, the passers by stare
Typing the numbers in, a flick of the hair
'Hello, I'm coming over ....'

Her fingers trace the verse on her arm
Love bears all things, believes all things,
hopes all things, endures all things.
Pushing the sheets away, her lover unperturbed

As she heads to her car, she sees him
His face revulsed, dignity defiled
He walks away and she runs after
Her life would never be the same

The fight was bitter, screams deafening
But all that was done was done
Typing the numbers in, a tear swept
'Hello, I'm coming over....'

P.S I read this poem again and again to the starting 1:06s of the video Unfaithful by Rihanna and would be worth the experience, if you did too. This was also inspired by the video and lyrics of the same. Also along similar lines L'agent Provocateur
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Medicated Lyrics

Being a medical student entails one to probably spend chunks of time reading up on books which I have a feeling were inspiration for the concept of platform shoes in terms of size and thickness. Anyways this tedious procedure is what often led me to procrastinate about a whole lot of unimportant stuff and the voids filled in with music. So here's a few lyrics, modified ofcourse to suit whatever situation (and in my case which clinical posting) along with phrases you'd hear in the hospital.

P.S Do listen to the song while reading the lyrics. I promise you Medicine would not be the same again. : )

♫ Total eclipse of the Heart - Bonnie Tyler feat Meatloaf

L Ward, every now and then nothing is ever done and the sisters sit around, MICU, every now and then I get a lil bit tired of listenin to the sound of machines, Dept office, Every now n then I get a lil bit nervous that the staff is still sittin inside, Turn around, Every now and then I get a lil bit terrified & then I see the look in ur eyes,Kale gotha, Intern,Whose gonna type pending summaries, Kale gotha, Intern,every now n then I get royally screwed

*Kale gotha - A Konkani phrase which literally translates to 'what you know' or in proper English as Did you know?

♫ Thong song - Sisqo

Ooh dat mets so scandalous And ya know another T cell couldnt handle it See ya positioning that laser like who's da ish With a look in ya eye so precise-ish It likes to dance at all the hip hop spots And on MRI it highlights hot spots Not just brain it likes the blood Cuz she was livin la vida loca.

♫ Rude boy - Rihanna

Wat u know, intern can u fill the card? Wat u know, intern is the dressing done? Take it, take it, intern, intern Take it, take it, blood forms, bt ct Tonight Imma gonna complain to da incharge Tonight I want all case sheets completed Tonight I want all reports collected Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up baba

* BT- Bleeding time
   CT - Clotting time

♫ Dynamite - Taio Cruz

I came to Kudla, kudla, kudla, kudla Roads I abhor Cos Ive got plans, plans, plans, plans Mallus wearing all their favourite brands, brands, brands, brands Give me sterile gloves for both my hands, hands, hands, hands Da, Da Cos it goes on & on & on And it goes on & on & on Aouda I put my finger in peoples bum sometimes Saying AYYO Bidi loosu I wanna celebrate and live my life Kale gotha Enchina Saavu

* Kudla - the tulu word for Mangalore, a south Indian city in Karnataka
   Mallus - a term used for malayalees or people from Kerala
   Da - A Malayalee word used to gather attention
   Aouda - Yes in Kannada
   Bidi loosu - an instruction to the patient to let go in Kannada
   Enchina Saavu - I think it means what the hell in Tulu

DJ got us falling in love again - Usher

So we back in Mullerkad Get tat bodies rockin from side to side Now tat de week is done I feel like a zombie gone back to strife BP's up n suddenly we all got our tondre enus No control of my body Ain't I seen u before? I think I remember those eyes,eyes,eyes Cos baby tonite the Doctor got us takin pills again So Depin, depin like its the last last night of ur life, gonna get u rite

* Mullerkad - a Peripheral health centre in Mangalore
  Tondre enus - What seems to be the problem? in Kannada
  Depin - Nifedipine, an anti-anginal & anti-hypertensive drug

♫ Papparazi - Lady Gaga

We r ENT's We'r co-comin out Got my flash on its true Need tat throat swab frm u It's so diagnostical We'd be so fantastical Lido Betadine Grommet n FESS Nt sure wat it means But dis polyp of urs Its comes wit a price Ready fr those flashing lights Cos u know tat baby I I'm ur operating attendee I'll dissect u until anasthesia lets me septo rhino plasty Baby there’s no other superstar U know that ill be Kama-Kamikazi

♫ Firework - Katy Perry

Do u ever feel like suicide/driftin thru PG books/wonderin why I did MBBS again/Do u ever feel,feel so overweight/like a shawarma roll/1 more kilo,hard to breath again/Do u ever feel already buried deep/6 feet under scream/But noone seems to hear a thing/Do u know tat there's still a chance for u/Cos there's COMEDK too/U jus gotta do an all night/N pls dont whine/Jus own the night/Like a nerd on a high/Cos baby you're an exam goer/Come on show'em wat ur worth/Make 'em go 'AH AH AH'/As u rush to color the ?right answer

♫Deck the halls (sung to the tune of a whiney exam goer during Christmas time)

Deck the halls with CCTV's fa la la la, la la la la la / Tis the season to write out stories fa la la la la, la la la la / Groan your frustration all together Fa la la la la, la la la la / Down with dreaded exams forever fa la la la la, la la la la

♫ Last Christmas - Wham!

Last Christmas I gave you a heart, but the very next day CMI (cell mediated immunity) rejected it away, Now on some inhibitors, Rituximab n Prednisolone, Next year we tried a liver, but the very next day, LFTs went disarray, Now on Tacrolimus and Mycophenolic acid,Once bitten and twice shy, I keep my distance but you still catch my eye,Tell me baby do you recognise me?Well it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me
And finally the best one I've done till date

♫ Waka Waka - Shakira

Your a good intern, choosing your offdays, dress the wound up and check reports off n back in the opd,you're in the frontline,everyone's watching, you know it's serious, gonna get jacked, this isnt over, the pressure is on,you feel it, you've got it all, Believe it,When u fall get up,Oh oh, And if u fall get up,Eh Eh,Kale gotha,What you know,Cos this is Mullerica, Kale gotha wat you know, biki biki eh eh kale gotha, wat u know this time for mullerica

* Biki - Kannada for push, most often used to instruct the mother to push while in labour.
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He lies on the floor. His jute mat with its frayed ends being munched away slowly by the rats that came to visit him. He moans lowly to drive them away but they don’t care and take him for the entertainment at their restaurant, squeaking their appreciation. He's too worn out to bother shooing them away. His hand hurts and every square inch is littered with blisters filled with fluid like puddles on a brick road. He rolls side to side scaring away his dinner guests and rests again for a while. The hospital has been very busy lately with the rains bringing along with its showers, patients by the truck load to St. Mary's.

The ward maid walks among them triaging the various inmates to see whether some have inadvertently succumbed to deaths call. She signals for the ward boys and they come, green masked, stretcher in hand to pick up the unlucky remains. He stirs to let her know he's alive. She smiles for a micro-second and she’s off to scan the remainder. Defeated he looks at his hands again, enclosed pools waiting to be explode. But he knows better now not to pick them, for the previous time it stung so bad that they had to prick him with countless injections so he preferred his body did the job for him and weathered them slowly away.

From silence to crescendo, the rain arrives again. He makes another fruitless effort to gather up courage to cry for help, but his voice like smoke easily gets lost in the madness of the crowd. Pain like a thief attacks him swiftly causing him to whimper and cringe. He lets out a cough. Drops of red spurt on the patterned tiles, the sight of which scares him. His time is up. He tries to breathe again but it gets harder. His heart starts beating frantically almost forcing him to make another attempt. With a last labored breath, he succumbs, into the hands of his heavenly father. "Acha isko bhi le chalo. Mar gaya buddha.” his eulogy read.
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Bollywood Dream

"Saab kuch aur be lega?" the scraggily dressed village boy asks sniffing his snort back into their vacuous black holes. He signals with the flick of his dying Marlboro on the saucer, the flecks traversing the tea outlines whilst his eyes lie in wait for her. In she walks, her pony tails displacing the hot and humid Bombay air due to the inherent spring in her step. She's worn a white blouse with a polka dotted skirt. He smiles remembering the film Bobby. She must have gone to watch the premier. Her entry makes everyone stop their inane routines to stare at the local wonder. He scorns and they quickly cower away...

She orders a couple of samosas, meek food for the busy college going girl. 'I hope Raj notices me today in this outfit', she thinks to herself, waving the zzzzing flies away from her honeysuckle scented neck and bosom. The creaky fan turns and blows her hair and scent towards him as he heads to pay the bill. He inhales deeply, eyes closed and suddenly opens his eyes to have her staring at him. Those chocolate eyes melt his black coal heart and he says I LOVE YOU. Her eyes widen and then
she lets out a laugh all the while cupping her mouth in faint surprise.
Excuse me, she says and then with a flick of her black hair she's out the 
door with her hot samosas wrapped in yesterdays news. Dejected he turns away, humiliated. The restaurant owner lets out a smirk which goes unnoticed. He shall have his revenge....

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A pointless idea I had to get out of my head...

In a country far far away, there were two groups of people who ruled the 3.29 million square metres of it. Of course a bigger chunk went to the group called Doctors and the rest was left to the Engineers. The partition was inevitable considering the country produced 440,000 doctors compared to the 350,000 engineers per annum.

The engineers though owning only a small portion did wonders to what was given unto them. Buildings erupted from the fecund ground, some daring to conquer the limits of the skies. Bridges, hover crafts and various other fancy equipments were built for both the surviving engineers and their families, some of whose wives were children of the Doctors. In order to keep up the traditional Edisonian and countless other scientists principles, colleges were built to impart knowledge about physical, chemical and other sciences. The only subject they didnt teach were Biological sciences.

On the other hand the Doctors were not very far behind. With money to spare, they employed the Lay man to build him the finest. They too, in order to save the Hippocratic way of life managed schools to teach the biological sciences. Knowing fully well this wasnt enough to prosper, they indeed had to find a way to leak out secrets of the Engineers. To resolve this, they offered to treat the old and the ailing of the Engineering lot. Falling for their offer, they readily agreed hence with each entry they were killed and countless information necessary for progress was extracted from their brains, precerved in formalin.

The Doctors even went as far as to genetically modify genes so as to make every child born as a naturally inclined doctor. But of course for everything there are defects and some of these genes mutated leading to some of them gaining only half the interest for medicine. It was these that the Engineers chose to be their wives/husbands knowing fully well that they too could make use of  the knowledge of biological sciences to further their understanding on how to protect themselves against diseases and manage medical emergencies.

However after uniting the Engineer and the Half Doctor could neve return to either lands and hence they migrated to Limbo, where they built both computers and Xray machines, engineering and medical colleges and etcetra etcetra of all the things necessary for them to survive.

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Story of a Loser

He flicks the ash off the butt end careful not to drop any on his privates while he lets off a stream. Zipping up, he thinks over what a crappy day he had.
Heading to the living room which is pretty much a cramped match box, he sits on the wooden chair contemplating over the whitewashed table top.
While he ponders on, his eyes shift to a ball of play dough. He lets out a smile/smirk. Lifting up the orange goo, he pinches it in sweet rememberance of his childhood.
Moulding away corners, defects and smoothening edges he finally makes something hes proud off. He leaves it on the table for one final show.
"There, that should make my son proud of me". He smiles, staring at the photo of Martin looking on with his blue eyes, thumb in mouth and hand held by his mother.
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The Biki amma and Swasha OBGY remix of Beautiful liar

Ai, Ai, Ai
Nobody likes being sedated
Biki amma , Biki amma (oh)
Swasha, Swasha (hey)

She said I'm pregnant, his n'th child
I’ve done it places that you wouldn't wanna know about
She examined me, with kuskus n jelly, (yes) OBG dactor
Tell me how you manage all the children you delivered out

We'll never know
Why are we the ones who suffer
I have to let go
He won't be the one to cry

(Ay) Let's not use contraceptives
(Ay) Let's not practice safe sex
(Ay) It's not worth the drama
For the OBGY
(Oh) Can't we be ignorant about it (hah hah hah)
(Oh) It's not worth our time
(Oh) We cant live without him
Checkups jus to pass our time

I trusted him, look what he did to me, got me pregnant
I didn’t know about oc pills, how do they work doc?
I walked in on your love scene, labour room
You gave me xylocaine, hope nothing goes wrong

We'll never know when the pain and screaming's over
I have to let go
The baby is aaooout

(Ay) Let's not use contraceptives
(Ay) Let's not practice safe sex
(Ay) It's not worth the drama
For the OBGY
(Oh) Can't we ignore facts about it (hah hah hah
(Oh) It's not worth our time
(Oh) We cant live without him
Checkups jus to pass our time

Tell me how to advise you
When it's me who's ashamed,
And I wish I could free you
Of the hurt and the pain
But the answer is simple
He's the one to blame (hey)

(Ay) Biki amma, Biki amma
(Ay) Swasha, Swasha
(Oh) Biki amma, Biki amma
(Oh) Swasha, Swasha

(Ay) Let's jus do it again
(Ay) Let's not space our child
(Ay) It's not worth the drama
For the OBGY
(Oh) Can't we jus screw around it (hah hah hah)
(Oh) We’ll think about it some other time
(Oh) We cant live without him
Just a visit to OBGY

Yea i know it doesn't make sense but it was ringing in my head after I had recently seen the video and since I was in my OBG posting at the time, i jus had to edit the lyrics out... enjoy

*The song Beautiful Liar was originally written by Knowles, Amanda Ghost, Ian Dench, Mikkel S. Eriksen and Tor Erik Hermansen.

*Biki - kannada for Push
*Swasha - breathe
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Voices in my head

4 am - Eyes wide open, the sheep jump over fences. Parting the blanket I head towards the bathroom. Splash, the water droplets slide over my bumpy skin over hair follicles to finally land into the big wide ocean collected in the deep sink. Looking up, the mirror shows a person Im not sure is me. He looks skinny, some may even say emaciated. Outlines of orbital sockets and a strong jawline clearly marked. But what strikes me are his eyes. Darkness shadowing the blood spill. I turn away.


9am - I reach the hospital. Heading towards the Biometrics, I notice people staring, students, faculty, patients. Some greet me with the cursed Good morning Sir. The faculty laugh and smile as they walk away. Im sure they are all mocking me. Saying all sorts of stuff like my broken marriage, children long forsaken , property tiffs between brothers. A lavish buffet in waiting for their wagging tongues. Imbeciles them all.

I arrive at my office and place my coat on the chair. The climate will never be right to wear them even for official purposes. I sit there waiting and waiting. Seeing me idle, the voices come whispering poisonous nothings into my ears.

"Aren't you tired of this life? Day after day, you wake up like a bloody zombie and head over here to listen to peoples problems. Dont you have enough of your own?" says one of them. " Good thing your wife left you 'innit? She never really loved you, sleeping around with the neighbour boys or with her colleagues. She was a disgusting whore." "Oh common why fool yourself, it was you who drove away both your wife and sons with your addictions. Who can love a drunk man who beats his wife and abuses his kinds huh??"

A knock on the door brings me back. Its the nursing aid with a file at hand. Placing it on the table she leaves and I watch as her tight fitting dress accentuates her curves. Maybe...hmph I smirk.

The patient enters and his affect is cheerful. Too cheerful even. He talks excessively about things which make no sence. Some moron quack asked him to stop his meds. He might as well have told him to jump from the rooftop. I pull out my Montblanc, a gift from a good friend of mine and write out the prescription while explaining to them that he needs to take the pills for life and that Im the one who tells him when to stop and no one else.

Handing the prescription he holds my hand and kisses it in gratitude. I mutter a thankyou and head for the sink. One, two, three spurts of the soapy fluid and off starts the medically approved method of washing hands, purging every crease, every ridge and every depression. Turning the tap on, the water starts to flow, initially cold then hot. The heat scalds but I like that. I return to my seat, massaging my hands, now a rosy pink. 

8 pm - After the long drive back home, the sofa invites me to sink in. Glass in hand I sip the delicious whisky, imported. To finish off this pathetic excuse of a day, I draw out my credit card and use it to dice the fine powder. Once done, a small puff is all it takes and Im off....

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The Man who didnt Care

He stood there blankly as they lowered the coffin. "From dust to dust", a single phrase from the Bible always made him smile but he didnt know why. 

Middle of the lot, he was often ignored sometimes even forgotten. He's arrive at the dining table only to find people leaving it to wash their plates. "Go grab what's remaining Stuart" his mom would say. Tilting the pot for the last millie of soup,he'd clang it with the spoon hoping for somemore.

At school, he blended in. Standing in class, with arms stretched out, palms facing up. PHAT came the rubber scale to greet its waiting guest. He'd just stare at the lines. They were pointing upwards. A sign that good luck is sure to follow. And then he'd sit down, as if nothing ever happened.

College got out the best of him if thats what you could call it. He found similar people who just led their lives without a care. Their hair was jet black, long and fringed. Some even shot it with color. They dressed in black and met after school in each ones houses. 

After getting good grades he joined Medicine. He'd heard they needed people who didnt care over there. Bodies laid out for dissection, he neatly carved out each muscle, vein, artery and nerve as the cadaver stood still basking in the scent of formalin.

Years passed, he became an oncologist. Day after day, he'd sit in his office seeing heads shamefully covered in caps and bandanas. Eyes, weary after the radiation and hearts, eagerly beating to hear that nothing was wrong. He'd council them, they cried. His eyes just looked on.

One day he got a call. His patient had died and was requested to be at the funeral. Dressed in black, the mother delivered the eulogy. Final prayers said they lowered the box. He turned to leave. Not a single tear or heartfelt emotion, nothing, as he walked on.    
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Dolls for girls and Coins for adults

Light struggles to insinuate the forever under construction, traffic jammed, polluted city and yet the day has already begun in the metropolitan city within a developing country.

Placing her knapsack on the dusty concrete, she unties the knot securely fastened, a skill her mother had taught her before the countless days of bloody coughs drained her dry to the grave. The sack opened revealing a bright maroon cloth with white motifs shaped like eyes. She would often stare at it wating for it to blink back, which it did sometimes when she concentrated hard enough.

Now smoothening the cloth, she would place in descending order wooden dolls with limbs shaped like almonds, thread being both the skeleton and blood running through it. They were all dressed in mini versions of clothes worn by the local village people, all bright and inviting to the passerby's eyes. After the routine she would then wait. It was the season when tourist thronged the city for some festival or the other. A sure profit in the making.

Sure enough, tourists with bags as big as boulders with boisterous children in tow cross her and then rewind back thanks to the kids. Their eyes, tranced by the colorful wooden people. "I want that one, mommy!! Could I have it please??" After a short thought, she askes her " yeh kitna?" her hindi heavily accented and funny sounding to the little girl. "50 rupees, madam." "That seems like a bargain, theek hai".

The exchange takes place. Dolls from a girls hand to an adult and bills and coins from an adult to the child. Tucking the bills, she observes the coins. Simple, lifeless things same as her toys. But what game would she play with the coins, a simple flip or stack them into a tower. With her dolls, she could dress them and make them attend fancy parties or dance to hit numbers. But they dont pay for the food or clothes or shelter. No, they just go on leading parasitic lives.

Joie de Vivre....
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Stolen glances, always caught
Eyebrow raised
Her lips pout
And a smile soon appears.

Willowy wisps curled
Her nose ring twinkles
In the apricot evening.
Her cheeks, now blushed.

Nearing close
Her perfume inhaled.
Hands over mine,
Alternating his and her fingers.

Inspired by the hindi song Dil To baccha hai (my heart is still a child) from the movie Ishqiya
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