Modern Health Care- Making life meaningful

Modern healthcare aims at improving the quality of life of the people.  With the advancement of technology, diseases are also on the prowl mainly because of a sedentary lifestyle that 80% of us lead. Health deteriorates and so does the immunity. So, here are the health care providers of the modern day who aim to make living easy. The development that technology has made in the health care industry has acted as a catalyst in making life simpler and easier.

Gone are the days of invasive surgeries, extensive waiting time for diagnosis and testing. There has been a massive advancement when technology including the electronic and the IT Industry shook hands with the health care sector. There are latest diagnostic methods, imaging technology, surgical tools, investigative methods, state of art technology, quality and standard of testing, automation, innovation and speed. Methods are developed which are less troublesome for the patients and make it easier for the clinicians. The development of the health care sector has been overall. Modern day methods have used the applications of varied fields. With quality education, automation and mechanization, modern day health care aims to touch the lives of everyone.

When the cost of affording a health care facility in the modern day has raised leaps and bounds, there are alternatives that help the lesser privileged. There are various certified and accepted insurance schemes available at a yearly investment which is bare minimum. There are special trusts and funds that provide discounts for the advantage of the needy. Though many instances appear when the needy don’t get the right help from the right person. Here’s when media and sales come into picture. They help in creating awareness to the general public about the various options they have. Education itself has helped the common man to understand about the health care. Distribution of pamphlets, online promotions and in depth detail of the ailments has helped patients take a path called preventive health care. Lifestyle associated problems are solved at ease with simple methods like counseling.

For example, at the tap of a button an instrument is guided inside the body which can remove tissues. Within seconds these tissue slices can be taken and analyzed under a microscope that can detect the results with photographs. The next moment, this reports gets uploaded onto the hospital information software, any other clinicians sitting in any other part of the hospital can view. Next click of the button the report is sent via e- mail to the patients, a copy is handed over and a text message is sent informing to the patient that the report is ready. A chain of events occur within few hours that help in the early diagnosis of the prevailing condition.

Gone are the days when health care set ups had to slog hard to generate a diagnostic test report. The transporting of samples through the pneumatic chute system which allows the easy transfer within minutes from one corner of the premises to the other corner has reduced errors in all aspects.

The moment a radiographic image is taken, it gets uploaded on to a system that is pushed into a data base. The server detects the search based on the requirement by the clinician each time he/she wants to view it.

Little things like these have overall made the life of the people approaching the health care industry better. A patient walks in with an ailment and walks home satisfied for approaching a modern day health care center.

Being from the health care industry myself, I feel we are constantly striving to provide a better living.  

This article was written for an initiative taken up by Apollo Hospitals in unison with Indiblogger- http://www.apollohospitals.com/cutting-edge.php

“Going the distance”- My entry for the get published contest

This story talks about the trials and tribulations of relationships that are seen in the present day scenario. 

It is about a girl who’s the main protagonist and the narrator who is on the helm of a serious decision making part of her relationship. She is clueless whether to choose her career or sacrifice her love. On the other hand, the man who loves her is equally strong with his thoughts. If it’s not always about adjustment there’s also self satisfaction in life. Both refuse to budge from their thoughts. Holding the flag of eternal love for each other intact they proceed on a journey that doesn't have a good end for them. It talks about their struggle with their ambition, thoughts and their constant endeavors to work out the concept that – ‘love can co- exist with ambition’. 

Gone are the times when decisions about relationships were based only on love. Love is not only about sacrifices. Those days’ couples could even elope to be with their love but the present day situation doesn't seem to support blind love.  It is ruled by fact, self contentment, happiness and ambition. On one hand when gender biasing gets reduced, there are additional roles and responsibilities that couples take up. There’s struggle involved in maintaining any relationship. 

Diary of Traveler - When nature throws surprises

Diary of Traveler - When nature throws surprises

Lost and Found

This story has been published in Yourstory club website as part of Creative writing competition : http://yourstoryclub.com/short-stories-funny/funny-short-story-lost-and-found/

“Ouch!! My knee hurts. I can’t walk anymore,” granny grumbled panting for breath.

“Are you feeling good?” I asked in a worried tone.

“Don’t worry I’ll be alright with some rest. Just get me water to drink.”

I had barely walked across the platform when I realized that I had left my purse with granny. I retraced my steps only to find granny walking towards the other direction leaving the luggage behind. I was petrified seeing her walk away without informing me. It caught my attention just in time. I grabbed the luggage and my purse in hand and tried catching up to her.

“A while back she complains about knee pain and now she is walking as if in a marathon,” I wondered within.

The clock displayed 9:00 AM. Exactly one hour for our train to arrive.

I kept following my granny trying to push myself through the crowd and dragged the luggage. I didn’t know whether to run or to just walk in the same pace.

I shouted several times but she didn’t hear. It looked as if she was following someone. I was tensed thinking she might have gone searching for me. I asked few of the fellow people walking around to try stopping her but she was 20 steps away from me.

The crowded platform made things worse for me. My legs hurt but I kept following her and was nearing her. I was quite close. With all my might I put complete pressure on my calf muscles, ran towards her and nudged her only to give her a shock.

“Where are you going without telling me?” I asked in an angry tone.

She looked pale. Her heartbeat had already increased. The hearing aid was dangling around her neck.

“What do you want granny?” I asked putting her hearing aid back.

She pointed towards a man who was ten steps ahead of us.

“Who’s that? Do you know him? Did he steal something?”I asked jolting her elbow.

She refused to speak but pointed at that man saying, “Take me there.”

I put my arms around her shoulder and held her close to me. With one hand to support her and the other hand dragging my suitcase I walked faster.

I was close to him. His hair looked dirty from behind as if he had not bathed over years. His slippers looked torn. I shouted across the platform only to make everyone turn towards me.

He looked back . Seeing me rush towards him he stood still wondering why a normal passenger would call for a beggar with eagerness until one had something to give him. I didn’t have time to guess why granny was following a beggar.

No sooner had we reached him than granny grabbed the over coat he had in his hand. He was totally taken aback by this gesture and I was shocked seeing granny’s behaviour.

“What are you doing granny? You can take some rag picker’s coat like this.” I shouted at her.

It was embarrassing to face this situation. The rag picker was stinking and I couldn’t stand this anymore.

“This is mine,” granny said with confidence, pushing me away. I really wondered from where she got that strength.

She explained to the rag picker in the local language that it was her coat. She turned the coat back and showed us the embroidery.

“This is my work. I had done this. This is your grandpa’s coat. This is your grandpa’s coat,” saying this she almost burst into tears.

The beggar seemed to be reluctant to even part with the only proper clothing he had. After understanding my granny’s intention he tugged the coat towards him.

“Calm down granny. It must be some mistake,” I said trying to take control.

“No it isn’t. It is your grandpa’s coat,” saying this she started rambling through the pockets and took out a small handkerchief from it to show us the evidence.

The beggar looked blank and I was confused.

“I told your mother not to give it to anyone but she still managed to give it to some rag picker. I want this coat back,” granny said with fury.

I was in a difficult situation and almost ten passerby had surrounded us. I tried to take the situation under control. I tried explaining to her but she refused and neither did the rag picker agree. Both were adamant.

He looked diseased and one more moment near him wound make me puke. I didn’t even feel like touching that over coat. It looked dirty. I had to do something. Many asked me but I dispersed the crowd trying to get hold of the situation.

I took granny aside and tried to explain. “There might be many coats like this granny and you might be just imagining about this embroidery. The coat must be at home,” I told her.

She didn’t agree. She was so sure that it was the same overcoat.

“I searched for it yesterday while I was packing. It wasn’t there,” she said with confidence. “I always warn people not to meddle with my personal things. Your mother will never listen,” she said with disgust.

I wanted to laugh imagining the amount of fuss she would create after going home but I had other important role to play.

I was informed by the rag picker that he got it from a washer man. There was no time but to convince the rag picker.

I requested him to give me the over coat in simple words but he didn’t agree. I thought for a while and realized that for a rag picker like him who barely had proper clothing to wear, parting with an over coat would be too much a price to pay.

Finally, I bargained with him to sell me the overcoat for almost 500 rupees. He grinned widely looking at the crisp 500 rupee note. I cursed my fate for this loss and thought how foolish we were to buy some old rag for such a high price.

This feeling was momentary though. I barely could hold the coat near to me but my granny seemed the happiest. She grabbed the over coat from me and wrapped it inside a cover.

“It’s the first coat I ever got for your grandpa and made this embroidery myself. It is very precious to me,” granny said with a relieved look on her face.

I took granny aside while the train slowly parked itself on the platform.

Mom burst into laughter when she heard about the incident.

“Tell your granny that I had not sold the over coat but I had given it for a wash to the washer man. He must have misplaced it and given it to the rag picker,” mom said this and the hung up.

Picture Story

Published in Yourstory Club website : http://yourstoryclub.com/short-stories-love/sweet-love-short-story-picture-story/

A lazy Sunday afternoon after a sumptuous meal seemed disgusting when I had been instructed to shift all my old college notes from my room to the attic. Every step I took with a pile of books in hand, I burped.  The puri- chole had started its action in my stomach.

“Get done with this work fast and take rest Anisha,” my mom screamed from her room.

“Yes, I intend to mom,” I muttered with a sigh.

It was high time that I cleared my overflowing college notes and my books from the drawing room before the guests arrived.

With a mask around my nose I barged into the most neglected area in my house- the attic; in the terrace.

I was entering this room after 6 years. This place started making me feel spooky. It looked clean and arranged but the shelves and trunks were covered with a thin layer of dust. No one had time to spend here ever since the time I left.

I had enough energy to open the trunk and dump all the books inside.  In the event of dumping my books at one go I managed to completely fill it and was unable to close the lid. I had to rummage through the trunk completely, take out everything that was dumped, pile them back and stack them neatly.

A small notebook was left behind which certainly didn’t seem anywhere close to my notes. The cover looked tattered with silverfish crawling on it.

Curiosity crept in as I dusted the book.

The first page had something written with an ink pen that had obviously been smudged. I flipped that page only to find the most awesome couple I have ever known- ‘My parents’.

My mom was dressed in a beautiful red chiffon saree draped beautifully around her perfect figure, hair neatly tied into a bun, a gerbera protruding from one side of her hair right behind the corner of her ear and eyes neatly lined with dark kohl. Beside her, stood my handsome dad wearing a baggy pant, neatly combed hair with side partition (which he still continues to maintain) and wearing a white high collared shirt he certainly could have made any girl fall flat for him. It seemed like a picture taken at a studio. I faintly remembered the time when mom had shown me this book. It was their scrapbook with a collection of few of their fond memories that no one could capture.

The second picture wasn’t very clear but had that black and white touch with mom standing with dad and their school friends outside their school premises beside their bicycle. They looked grown up and I wondered how mom would have managed his teenage tantrums. It seemed like a sweet picture with mom’s calm smile and dad’s mischievous grin. It reminded me of the story that mom once narrated as a bed time story.

She could have easily converted herself into the queen and my dad into the king along with their bicycle as the horse and tell me their life’s fairy tales. The mischief that they did, the enjoyment they drew out of riding their bicycles, doubles/ triples and stealing mangoes from the trees on hot summer afternoons was something which I would never experience.

Below each picture there was a date written with the same ink pen that I couldn’t decipher.

The third picture was a group photograph with almost 30 students and one teacher in the center wearing big round glasses. It certainly seemed familiar to me. She was my school principal who was then my parents’ class teacher.

I stood still, stared closely at the picture. There stood, mom and dad in the first row exactly side by side, almost of the same height.  They looked cute together then and in my eyes they still look the same. My mom never failed to have her hair plaited to a neat length and dad flaunted his dressing style always. They were the best of the lot in school.

Through hardships and strong perseverance they had come to that stage. I wonder how mom managed to convince dad into marriage after being just close friends for years together.

The fourth one was the best of the lot. Mom and dad sat on the back of a cycle rickshaw while going to school. It was one of those memorable pictures that my granny had always preserved of her son and her neighbour’s daughter (my mom).

Mom repeatedly told me of the tough times she faced in convincing dad to proceed with the relationship. They hardly exchanged conversations apart from homework and play when they were together. It took my dad 20 years to realize that he did have feelings towards my mom not just as a childhood friend but also as a companion.

The last page of the book was the most touching part which I felt, did make a difference.

It read:  ‘ I like you.’

                    Yours Ramesh

 (The‘s’ and the ‘h’ seemed smudged because of moisture.)

My dad had preserved some selected pictures of their childhood days and had gifted them in the form of a scrapbook to my mom. These snaps had been stolen from my granny’s album and had been gifted as a token of love from my dad.

My thoughts seemed rejuvenated. My heart skipped and jumped with alacrity. I pushed that book safely back into the trunk and closed the lid.

I had re-lived few memories of my parents’ life.

The phone rang with a shrill only to make me come back to reality.

Seeing the caller id picture of Adi and me together I felt we complemented each other just like mom and dad.

Bikini and Me

This story has been published in Yourstory club for CWCI Competition-  http://yourstoryclub.com/short-stories-social-moral/short-story-with-moral-lesson-bikini-and-me/

6 October, Goa: “So, you sell only bikinis?” a young teenage customer asked me in an excited tone.

I smiled back warmly at her nodding my head. The girl seemed overjoyed and amazed looking at all the contents that filled every corner of my little shop.

“You ask for any kind and it is there. Different shapes, sizes, colours, patterns and prints. I offer customized designs too,” I said showing one brilliant piece of my work.

Tiger prints, beaded, multicoloured, backless, halter neck, strapless, printed and abstract prints. I got the craziest of ideas. I knew the choice of the girls who came in this area. In a place like Goa which attracted many foreigners and young bubbling girls, I started this as a small shop under a thatched roof beside this Kempu beach.

Seeing one girl spending more than 15 minutes in my shop her other friends followed. My happiness knew no bounds when they purchased in dozens. The same story repeated each day. I met new girls, spoke to them, took ideas from them and customized funky bikinis just the way they wanted.

I always roll into my past seeing the gleaming eyes of these girls.

I used to accompany my father when he went fishing. Afternoon school kept me occupied until I found time to play with girls I grew up with. The only sport known to us was swimming and diving into the cool blue sea that always seemed to welcome us. My mother decked me up in those beautiful swimming costumes that she stitched only for me. Those bits and pieces of cloth that she had named as my swimming costume are now the so called ‘bikini’.

Things were not the same always. Sitting by the beach I used to admire the girls who still went swimming without me. I sat on the warm sand at dusk noticing my friends who had grown up just like me. They played in the pool, enjoyed teasing other guys wearing the sarong or flaunting their sexy body with that beautiful piece of cloth which once used to be our swimming costume.

I was enveloped with fear then thinking I could never be one among them. My parents tried their best but I never found my confidence back. Negative energy seemed to have enveloped me. With time, the scars healed.

I just sat in one corner helping my mother with her stitching sessions each day. This fascination took over me and turned into public attraction in a short while.  My thoughts had a new dimension.

After years I can say I am contented.

***

The article read – Sherin is a Breast Cancer survivor from the past 40 years who has dedicated her life to brighten up the lives of young women.

 ***

I threw the last bit of the dry peanut skin, dusted the paper, folded it carefully and putting it in my pocket I headed towards the shop that had a big board “BIKINIS ONLY” written in bold over it.

My Blue Chocolate

The phone beeped loudly in the quietness of the lazy Sunday morning only to wake me up with a start. I struggled hard to open my eyes, fluttering my eyelids. I felt a sharp pain. My eyelids were stuck.

I rubbed my eyes with pain and forced them open. 

My phone read: 1 message received

Kaushik: Awake?

The digital clock on my mobile displayed- 8:46 AM.

Before I could think there was another message.

Kaushik: Awake?????

 “Just by sending more question marks you cannot expect a reply”, I mumbled to myself.

I was not yet out of the emotional hangover of the previous night.

Kaushik: I think you are deep in sleep. Let me know when you come to the canteen for breakfast. I want to meet you.

Now…….. this message got me curious.

“Why would Kaushik want to meet me on a Sunday morning for breakfast when he would never wake up until lunch time?” I asked myself.

It seemed strange. My brain refused to add on any thought process. I was mentally exhausted arguing with Rishi from the past few days.

I replied: “Yes, I am coming to the canteen. You know very well I will never miss breakfast when they serve Chole Bhature. Errr………..but why are you awake on a Sunday Morning? ”

Kaushik: Just to give you a special gift.

I replied curiously, “What’s that?”

I stopped brushing and looked at my cell phone eager to see his reply.

Kaushik: “A chocolate”. (It was accompanied with a smiley emoticon)

“What!!! You are awake only to give me a chocolate!!!” I exclaimed in the message.

Kaushik: “Yes this chocolate is especially for you on a belated b’day wish note. “

“Thanksssss, “I replied.

He could understand exactly how I was feeling from the past two days. It was more than 24 hours since my birthday had become a belated one still there was someone who could understand that I didn’t enjoy myself so much. It was Rishi’s presence that I missed which couldn’t compensate for anything.

Suddenly, I got reminded of the previous day’s argument that I had had with Rishi. We just couldn’t strike a chord for this note called coordination. Ultimately he made me cry even on my birthday by just not reacting at all.

In this thought process I had swallowed a bit of the foam formed by my paste. I spat it out in disgust, splashed cold water on my face and looked in the mirror only to find my eyes swollen with two small puffed sacs seen on my reddened face.

It was a terrible feeling but I smiled only to keep myself normal. The excited was gripping me more and more and longed to have that special chocolate.

I had reached half way to my canteen when I received another message from Kaushik.

“What kind chocolate do you like?”- Indian or Imported?

Now that the excitement was adding on I was very eager to get my gift. I wasn’t fond of chocolates neither did I have a specific choice if someone gifted me some. It was a funny feeling to be excited for a belated birthday chocolate. After all it would be just a small gesture to make me feel happy and brighten up my mood.

Girls love surprises and gifts. To start a day with something to look forward to was the best feeling that could act as a balm to my aching heart and mind.

Kaushik: Do you like Ferro or do you like Cadbury Dairy milk silk or Bournville?

I replied: “Anything would do as far as I am getting the chocolate to eat. I hope you are not trying to fool me.”

Suspicion crept in as Kaushik was very capable of fooling me. I didn’t want to have any more high hopes or else I would feel even more terrible.

Kaushik : “ Chill!! I won’t hurt your sentiments.”

“One last question from my side and I will be there in 10 minutes to join you for breakfast”, Kaushik messaged expecting I will be calmed down.

I had reached the canteen by then and was devouring those delicious hot Chole Bhature. I felt contented having a good breakfast.

“What is that,” I replied sitting and staring at the empty plate in front of me.

Kaushik: Would you prefer a blue wrapper or a pink one?

“Blue,” I replied with disgust in my face and put my phone down.

Sipping tea slowly I looked around and observed the crowd in the canteen. None seemed as worried as I was then. The excitement of the morning was subsiding down and it was being replaced by worse thoughts of those arguments again.  I was sitting in one corner and thankfully not in the notice of many of my classmates. My puffed eyes would have been surely a reason for unnecessary questions that I always wanted to avoid from gossip mongers.

I couldn’t wait anymore. I dialed Kaushik’s number.

He cut my call after 2 full rings.

I felt irritated because I was sitting there in a terrible mood doing nothing but waiting for some special chocolate that he was probably manufacturing for me.

The next moment I felt some positive energy creeping in. The soothing ginger tea was having its effect on me.

I wanted to forget everything and be normal.

I typed a message to Rishi. On one hand I wanted to share my happiness with him, make him feel I am normal and on the other I also wanted to show him how special my friends were. They could do small gestures just for my happiness.

“You know Rishi I am going to get a birthday surprise from Kaushik…….”

I hadn’t completed typing the message when my phone rang and this message was automatically pushed to drafts.

It was Kaushik.

“Look up girl,” he shouted on the phone. That was all I could here in the chaos.

 I looked up and strained my neck through the crowd and waved at him. He waved back with a smile. That moment I felt so glad that I waited to meet someone with whom I could smile and have a chat at any point of time. I felt lucky to have such friends.

I was back on my seat waiting for him to peel through the queue at the food counter and come towards my table.

The very next moment I was seen cupping my hands on my face just as I had won a beauty pageant.

The canteen crowd was looking in my direction.

There he came along with Kaushik holding a beautiful bouquet of colourful roses in his hand. I was in trance not able to realize what was going on.

Wearing that blue kurta that I had gifted, Rishi walked towards me confidently. He stood there with a triumphant smile. I knew it from the look in his eyes. It was entirely his plan.

Kaushik chuckled and said pointing towards Rishi, “This is your blue chocolate madam.”

 This story has been published in Yourstoryclub.com for Creative Writing Competition 2012- http://yourstoryclub.com/short-stories-love/love-short-story-my-blue-chocolate/