Rantings...

I was sitting at office kicking myself mentally for having started my professional life with the largest business house of the country when I started scribbling something on a sliver of paper lying on my desk... and just so that I don't lose the scribbling I decided to digitize the effort:

"Every person is born with a purpose. No one is free, no one is useless. The moment you understand your purpose you will learn to live. But till then you will be embroiled in the constant existential crisis about one uncomfortable question, WHY ME. Why so much mediocrity after the exposure to abandance of excellence? Why this imporvishment of faculties after the cornucopia of sensual pleasure? Why does my life alone have to roll down hill without a stop? Why do I keep asking "Why me?" every night before I sleep. Why me?

This is called a lack of freedom. This is called being bound to senses. This is why you are not free. You have to learn to live for yourself, without regrets, you have to make decisions that you wouldn't want to blame on anyone else. You have to stop asking for advice. Live for yourself. For a change."

Cardiology = Pump Maintenance

We work with huge devices that run with a roar and lift volumes of fluid to dizzy heights. Large, dangerous machines which have given us the capacity to move the world, the kind that are too huge to imagine unless you stand in front of them and see them work. Life is easy with them.
But think of having to work with such a critical pump when its running continuously. When you are not allowed to stop the machine and still have to remove a snag in it. My engineering sense will call it an impossibility in the beginning and foolishness at a later stage. But thats exactly what a cardiologist does.

Everything that happens to the heart can be compared with the working of a pump in general and a reciprocating pump in particular. Be it surge, pressure drop, cavitation everything can be talked about in terms of a reciprocating pump in every sense. When these people wearing white coats and grim expressions amble along the sterile corridors filled with tense relatives of patients, you realize that even without the grease, spanner and an odd peice of emery paper here and there, these people are very much maintenance engineers. Just that they are involved in the most unenviable task of working with devices they cannot willingly declare "Redundant".

Waiting for the rains...

It hasn't rained yet. Life seems more parched and thirsty than ever before. Physically I am drained beyond recognition and the mind is running around in directions unknown. The plethora of feelings that I used to experience once upon a time have shrunk into an ugly petrified stone. I have nothing of myself left.

Life is hanging on hope. Hope that I will be able to get out of this place in this lifetime. Hope that the tunnel won't be too long after all. Because I still am hanging on to those words,

"Hope is a good thing. Maybe the best thing of all."