Transition

In less than 2 weeks from now, I will move on to Grihastashram from Bramashram. This blog has probably dedicated 50% of it's space to my rants and musings on finding the perfect one and it is a pity that once I found one, it did not let way for 1% of that space on the aftermath. Like they say, women have a profound effect and I, of all the people, had little defense to that.

So what am I looking forward to? Going to the movies and making sure we are nowhere near the pesky mobile popcorn waala who refuses to get the message. Moving on from the late night calls that have often caused enough red eyes in the morning. A month long vacation from work which means no more deadlines and calls that drone on. The gifts, the ceremony and the truckload of guests that will fly down. And most of all, her :).

Cat Ba Island

I am on my IBM Corporate Service Corps assignment in Vietnam. And while I have been missing on the blogosphere, the below post should tell you why so.

A trip to Cat Ba island. Touted as one of the places where a James Bond movie was shot. Pristine surroundings. Gorgeous water. Even better sand. Untouched nature. Rocks. Fresh breeze. The list of exotic locations just does not stop yet in Vietnam.

We started the morning by squeezing 10 of us in a taxi meant for 7 only. After a rather packed ride, we reached our ferry on what was a sunny and hot day. Boarded the ferry and our photography started. There was so much to capture that we just continued clicking.The water was initially a muddy shade and slowly started getting green like a sapphire..shining brilliantly.


Once we touched Cat Ba island, we debated whether to use a cab or hire bikes. And I think hiring bikes was the best decision we took. It was just heaven to feel the wind and ride in the middle of lush forests and greenery. We reached beach 1 and it took us less than 5 mins to hit the water. The sand was so clean the water so clear, that we did not need a second invite, esp. with the hot sun glaring down.


Beach 2 was smaller and more secluded than the previous but the team continued its fun in water and by the end of it we were all tanned. Of course no one cared any less about it. On our return we had a small scare when Albert mistimed a turn on his test ride on the bike, and crashed. Luckily there were no injuries and we were back on our trail to the ferry.

Words don't do justice to this trip. It had to be seen and experienced. Probably one of the best trips I had undertaken ever.

Panchatantra

Jas asked me to do this exercise that 666 has so unceremoniously massacred on his blog. I will be nice and here it goes.

Rules:
Use the first letter of your name to answer each of the following questions. They have to be real- nothing made up! If the person before you had the same first initial, you must use different answers. You cannot use any word twice and you can't use your name for the boy/girl name question.
I have to use 'K'

1. What is your name: Kanishka (Reminds me of that brilliant movie Sankat City, and that cracking liner.."Main kaun choo, mhari mummy kaun che")

2. A four Letter Word: Kama (The lord of love often caught in a cheap prejudice that makes you think of Indira Verma. Not denying she is not a goddess but definitely not of love)

3. A girl's Name: Kanishka (This was easy. I have always lived with a sub Mensa level populace that thinks Kanishka is a girl's name and allocates hostel rooms in women's hostels, files visa as female and the works. When it is supposed to be a King and all Kings till date have been men)

4. A boy's Name: Kendraiah (Go to Karnatak to find several such names in Kendra Sanchar Nigam)

5. An occupation: King (It s an occupation. Try wiki answers)

6. A colour: Khaki (remember big baggy shorts that RSS cadres wear)

7. Something you wear: Kicks (slang for shoes..check on wiki answers)

8. A food: Kaju Barfi (few more days before I can eat them)

9. Something found in the bathroom: Kilo Scale

10. A place: Karachi (Chand Nawab, Indus News, Karaaaaaaaaachi. Check on Youtube.)

11. A reason for being late: Kamel kicking kars

12. Something you shout: Kabootar (666)

13. A movie title: Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham (a very perverty yet hilarious version if you let the 2 kabhie's be as it is, rhyme Khushi with a censored slang and Gham with another such slang..and lo behold, you have a cheap Mallu porn movie)

14. Something you drink: Kala Khatta

15. A musical group: Kiss (. 1972s Group in USA. Kiss kiss ko main pyaar karun)

16. An animal: Koala

17. A street name: King's Cross (Queen's junction? Ouch, my blog's turning into an after 10 adults only zone)

18. A type of car: Kia

19. Something scary: Komodo Dragon (inventor of commode..hehehahahah....ok bad joke)

20. Ice cream flavour: Kesar

The Fun Side

And now the fun side of this crash. A lot of it is like "Sach ka Saamna" show so incase it gets a little too bold, just remember, I wasn't in my senses - quite literally.

So first crash, boom and bang. People stop, speak to me, ask me all sorts of questions to stop me from slipping into unconsciousness. In this melee comes a cute car instructor who stops by and asks me questions as well. I barely have any churn in..ermm [censored] ..cos my blood was pumping elsewhere but you get the drift. They pack me in the ambulance and then the paramedic says "Mate, I have to cut your shirt to reach your arm" and srrrrrr...I hear the scissors through my brand new shirt that I was wearing for the second time. That loss hit me more than anything else. The next thing I know is I am being wheeled in the stretcher in a hospital corridor without anyone beside me screaming.."Speak to me", crying, wailing and then resisting the doctor that she also needs to get into the operation theatre. Cos the dumbos did not take me to an OT..just kept me lying in the stretcher for quite sometime.

Finally I get up, look around and in the most pitiful voice say.."Water, water". Compounder who is Mallu looks at me with even more pitiful eyes and says "Can't, doctor has to examine you first". The suddenly Doc uncle comes, turns me around, violates me and declares that my spine is ok. Arrggghhh..I knew it was ok, why did you have to do that disgusting thing!! Then he calls nurse to dress my wounds. Enter Apsara 1.

She was 5'4", slim, blonde. Not gentle..wild. Takes broken hand which I have no control on and puts on a hoist. Endures great pains and loads of brushes. I curse why can't my hand feel today. Just one prayer..bas ek min ke liye haath mein sensation dedo. I look after she is done. There is blood. My blood. On her skirt and apron and ermmmm [censored], elsewhere. If real love of life reading this, I promise I did nothing. It just happened and I had no control. I swear.

Then enter my saviour, Indian doc with Andaz Apna Apna type ghode ka injection. He pushes it in my hand and then pushes all that liquid in my hand to numb it and tries to straighten it. Manages a bit but finally decides it needs surgery. So next day surgery. Now this is the interesting part. Just as they take me in they ask "Any relatives, guardian" "No" "Ok, these are the risks - you may go in coma, complications, loss of blood, paralysis, this that, death" "Do you agree". Ya, like I have a choice. "Ok, sign please". Anesthesia room "We may have to knock off your teeth if your jaw locks up when you are unconscious and if we are not able to push the tube in your mouth". The minute they gave me a jab I opened my mouth as wide as possible and stayed like that till I drifted into sweet slumber.

Enter Apsara 2,3,4,5,6,7. They came in all shapes in sizes. I am able to now appreciate why so many movies depict nurses with such throb inducing persona. India is the only exception. Had it not been for them my hospital stay would have been so uneventful, but the fact that I had one every shift take care of me made life so nice and fun.

There are, of course, fun things that happen in a hospital. You sort of lose all your inhibitions considering you see people dress and undress before you, albeit behind curtains or generally in a state of disarray. I could not use my hands so the person on the next bed would help me open cans and sandwich packs and since he couldn't walk I would fetch things for him. Beautiful tandem. Infact the next time they put me back into the hospital, all my ward mates were gone and it suddenly felt so alien and depressing.

By the time I was ready to check out of the hospital, I had made a lot of friends in the hospital, ward mates, nurses, matrons. I think that was the only thing that kept me out of getting into super duper depression. And oh, the physios. The battery of them that visited me, young beautiful girls. Indian, Polish, Brit. The two Indians currently treating me. Makes the visit to the hospital so much fun. There is so much more that I could go on but perhaps I should end this series of posts here and move onto different things in life.

The Aftermath

I am finally in a decent state to write a blog and update with what I would call as one of the most physically excruciating time I have had so far. Thank you everyone for your wishes and your concern. Really helps.

So what exactly happened? Of course the accident and the surgery but that was just a quarter of the torture. Took a severe reaction to the Morphine based painkiller that made me itch and scratch like I had the fleas and tore my back and my arms scratching. It took 2 weeks to get it under control and the lack of one hand made things worse. Then the numbness in a couple of fingers with subsequent hyper-sensation and restricted movement, which continues till date. Will need some intense physiotherapy and self-will to make that all right. And finally, the 4 hour syndrome i.e I cannot sleep more than 4 hours cos the hand starts hurting for some strange reason after 4 hours of sleep forcing me to get up, sit up till the pain subsides and then try to sleep again.

The incision where the metal plate was put in was stapled with metal staples (just like the ones you use to staple paper, just a lot more thicker) and were removed 10 days ago. Now that was the worst of the lot, when they took out the staples without any anesthesia - 20 of them - and I nearly passed out in pain. It works just like the way we pull staples out of paper with a slight modification. This was worse in terms of pain than my first dressing when they took out all the stuck cotton and bandages (Yes, I know, gory stuff).

Now comes the rest half of the pain. To cook with one hand with no help, do all daily chores, groceries, going to the hospital...everything alone - missed home like crazy. Must have banged down the knife a hundred times in frustration cos the vegetable would not stay in its place. And then mum would always say - You are not dead so don't fret. Chin up and fight through it. So far the fight has been good and I can proudly say that I took ZERO assistance from anyone save for some isolated bits. Bragging point - nah but morale boosting point - yes.

Destiny

I write this sitting in Bed 1, Juniper ward, St. Peter’s Hospital. This has reference to my previous post – my cycle. A nasty accident and I am lucky to be alive. Crossing a T junction when a car which never bothered to stop hit me from the side. I experienced anti-gravity for sometime till it decided to obey Newton and got me down flat on the ground. Sum total: A broken arm that needed a surgery this morning to fix in a metal plate to hold the bone together, bruises on my face and a couple of needles sticking in my body.

The cycle is a mess, wont ride again. I will have that metal strip in my hand for the rest of my life triggering off metal detectors everywhere I go. Pretty cool eh – Terminator style. Had my first dab of Morphine that made me delirious, heady, light.

Now back home, discharged from the hospital. Can’t type more but wanted to update you all.

Tour de London

Have you ever wondered how the makers of BSA Champ and Atlas cycles would be turning in their graves due to, lack of oxygen aside, the fact that countries like UK have made cycling an expensive rich man's option. Let me explain and pardon me if I end up getting too much into penny counting.

I had enough of walking around in London, waiting for buses to come, watching couples canoodling on bus stops much to the amusement of Indians (esp. the types who look at you from the corner of their eyes with that "I am checking you out" stare while trying to dig their nose or twirl their beard, if a Sardar) and generally losing precious time due to this dependency. So I decided to get myself a bicycle. Now before you raise your eyebrows and say - "Oh, so middle class" - let me narrate events that will make you guys look like the 4th cousin of Mittal's head cook's night shift assistant's port man.

I first went down to some bike shops here and asked them to give me a quote. First the jargon - Shimano gears, grip gears, or flick gears. No no, I want 1 gear. I no race. No sir, you must have gears, we don't sell bikes without gears. Alright alright, how much do they cost. Well mate, that one over there will cost you about 580 pounds plus VAT. Hmmmm, one cycle or a dozen? One cycle only. Oh that is mighty generous of you to give me one cycle for just 580 pounds. Move on. How about that one there? Sir that one is not recommended for you - it is for 18 years and below. I don't care, it fits me perfect - can't help it if you guys are in a hurry to reach 6 feet when you have 60 years for it. No sir, I am afraid we cannot sell that to you. Ok @!#!@#!.

I then looked up on the internet for some second hand deals. Found a couple and suddenly found the apple of my eye (no, not her) going at 20 pounds. Off I go to meet this Algerian who is selling his 18 gear Shimano cycle. It looked a beauty to me and had it been in India, I would have been the hottest guy on/off the block on 18 gears. I pay him, cycle down only to realise the rear tyre is a flat. Oh well, just a quick job I guess. I celebrated my cheap deal with a 10 pound dinner.

So the next day, I get into the car with Ram (my landlord) who begins by taking me to Halfords - a huge showroom just for bikes. Err, excuse me, I have a flat tyre. Sorry, we can't do that for you? Kyuuunnnnnn? You need to make an appointment for this and we are booked for next 3 weeks. You can buy a tube if you want. 3 weeks???? Indian patience was never a virtue in Rig Veda. Hey look, I will pay you extra, just do it. Can't, we don't do no repairs on Saturday and Sunday. Ahh, so now I have to time my punctures to match your store timings. Ok $#@$#@.

Next stop at another store - Can you fix my tyre. Sure, let me take a look. No we can't. Kyuuuuuun? Your bike is not roadworthy condition and we cant let it pass our store. Dear Harishchandra ki naajayaz aulaad, it is me who has to ride this bike and not you, and I need it for a daily 1 km commute in a non traffic area. No sir, it don't work like that. I can sell you the tube if you want. Ok ok, give me the tube and a cycle lock. What!! This flimsy lock costs 5 pounds?? #@$#@$.

I get back home, put the cycle down, summon all my vidya (no don't even bother with that joke, I never knew any girl called Vidya) and start removing the tyre slowly prying it out and then the tube. Inflate it, put it in a mug of water and start looking for leakages. And guess what, the only place where there was a "puncture" was in the valve which just needed a bit of tightening with a pair of tweezers. That's it!!! That was it all.

So now I have a functional cycle with a spare tube and a flimsy lock which I plan to replace. If all goes well the bike should about cost me about 25 pounds and throw in a dinner as well. Convert that into Indian rupees and it is upwards of 2000 rupees for a second hand cycle. Now the business plan - if I import cycles from India at about 4000 rs for geared ones and sell here for 150 pounds I will make a 200% profit. If I open up a puncture shop and repair tyres anytime during the day I will make 3 pounds per puncture. Assume I put it up in a premium location and also strew up some nails 100 m each side of the door, I should probably have about 50 cases at the bare minimum. That is 150 pounds of earnings as well. Per day. What do you think I should do?