Santhosh's ramblings

I do not sleep well (please do not diagnose me). It is an unspoken practice in our home—we do not ask each other, “How did you sleep last night?” Occasionally, a statement may slip out without thinking, but since both of us have sleep challenges, it is taken for granted that sleep is not something to worry about. The challenge arises when we have guests or are staying with friends. The first question in the morning is - “Did you sleep well?” I have started replying, “Do you want the truth or is it just another ‘How are you this morning?’ question?”   I correlate our sleep challenges with our profession. Years of residency and night duties with much sleep deprivation, the stress of medical work, learning to take short naps on theatre beds, trolleys, etc. - all of this plays a role. We had a friend who would come religiously for every Bible study, open the Bible, and go to sleep. That was the only good rest he would get. We encouraged him too!   But now, there is a preoccupation...

Watching birds has become a recent hobby for me, especially in the mornings when they come to feed. There are three kinds of birds who access the garden. One – the crows – who make a mess out of the area. They usually come alone, at times accompanied by a couple of friends, looking for the junk and putrid things lying around. They fill the air and ears with their cacophony. Generally individualistic in their approach, “me, mine, for my own food” is the end, and any junk can be food too!   The second is the small hummingbirds – who come in pairs, go straight to the flowers, and drink the nectar. Making high-pitched chirps as they flit from flower to flower. A beauty to behold, they come and go as and when they like. They come as couples and leave together too. They are focused – only nectar, nothing else do they want.   Then there is the community of Munias or family of finches, who come to feed at the bird feeder. They come in ones or twos initially, try the feed, and soon a l...

https://reflectionscreative.wordpress.com/2025/10/05/no-time-to-mourn/

There is a beautiful section in the Pixar movie  Elio . Elio suddenly gets the idea of using King Grigon’s son, Glordon, as a way out when he is captured by Grigon. His plan was to use Glordon as a “bargaining chip” to escape and save his alien friends. Glordon, who had always been shamed or ridiculed by his father, is overjoyed when Elio gives him a role—an opportunity to try something new. See the video here. It reminded me of our own college days. In Medicine, many faculty members used naming and shaming to break us in. On the very first day of my residency, I was ridiculed, shouted at (what would today be considered abuse), and thrown out of the rounds - in front of nurses, ward helpers, and the rest of the team. Such ridicule, sarcasm, and humiliation were simply part of normal life. https://santhoshsramblings.blogspot.com/2020/11/the-5-and-half-years.html Much later, when I became a faculty member, I was expected to do the same. I asked some colleagues - why should we continu...

Unattended parts of walkways exposed to rains in Kerala are potentially dangerous. A few friends faced the wrath of these walkways. Moss grew and made the walkway beautiful to look at, but dangerous to walk on. They fell - thankfully with no major damage. One friend said,  I can bring a pressure pump and wash it away.  But my question was - won’t it grow again? Another said,  Use bleach.  We did, but it gave only minimal, temporary benefit. The third semi-permanent solution was to cover the walkway and protect it from rain, which we tried, but damp groundwater still seeped in. The only permanent solution seems to be taking the stones out and replacing them with moss-resistant stones. But that comes with a cost. We were about to settle for the pressure pump solution - but there were three issues. Water under pressure can damage stones. Moss will grow again. And pressure pumps cost a bit too much! At times, my heart looks a little like those moss-filled pathways, waiti...

Yesterday during my evening walk, I ended up having three spontaneous conversations.  Here they are, with some added ramblings.   I visited an elderly uncle who no longer recognised me, repeatedly asking who I was despite our families’ close past relationship. Once a respected technical engineer in the Middle East, he had taught us about energy conservation and sustainability, even implementing solar panels and gardens at his home. Now, he has lost most of his memories but accepts it with a smile, unlike my mother, who struggled for years with her memory loss before eventually becoming unaware of it. Will I...?   As I left the house, I recalled this poem by Bonhoeffer:   “Who am I? This or the other? Am I one person today and tomorrow another? Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others, And before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling? . . . Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine. Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine!”   Does a pers...