As I reflect on my life, I realize that I have travelled nearly the whole country and lived in many
cities. This is an attempt to recollect a few memories which have shaped me.
Bihar
My home
My story began in Rajgir, where we first stayed, then Patna and Begusarai.
As I
mentioned in my previous blog, this story began with a struggle. A rented house
beside a garbage dump, second-hand scooter rides, a terrace outlined by naked
bricks and rods jutting out at places.
But a child
is happy anywhere, so I was happy, swinging on the main iron gate with
peeling paint as my mom swept the verandah. Playing with friends after
school. Scolding my baby sister when she colored my homework copy. I had a best
friend, attended birthday parties, school events and gossip. (Even though mom
put an omelette in my tiffin that nobody wanted to exchange for treats like
puri and cake). I hated that dad never gave us enough time and was
cranky, but over the years, as we progressed and prospered, I realised that he had been busy in his
struggle.
Later, when I returned to join a job in AIIMS, the most prestigious medical college, I was impressed by the equipment and the patient load. However, when I started to converse with patients regarding their complaints, I was reminded to stick to my own business. I wanted to argue back that asking and talking to patients was very much my business, but I was given a cold response.
People were
conservative, but they were helpful. They were very simple by nature.
This is the
place, no matter how rural, that was my home.
Uttarakhand
My first
snowfall, my first experience living huddled up in a large dormitory and my
first medal.
Being from
a very humble background and fresh from a period of struggle, the shift to a
boarding school in Dehradun, where upper-class society sent their kids, was sort
of overwhelming. Popularity was gained from what brands one wore. In such a
crowd, I was out of place. I earned the nickname ‘Begu’ (Begusarai). Initially,
I was given a bed beside a habitual bed-wetter. I hated the chilly winters. I
did not like walking on the pebbled bajri, which covered the entire campus.
I do have
few good memories though, like sliding down the stairs on a nude mattress. Or
like oiling somebody’s hair while somebody oiled mine. Flushing medicines when
feigning illness to watch TV (only the hospital had one). Hiding tuck (snacks)
in buckets, bushes or top of a ledge, when a sudden inspection. Pleading for
extra pudding or cake in the mess. Being on the debating team. Listening to my
English teacher read ‘Julius Caesar’ with great fervor and passion. Or like
when my batchmates circled me to sing the customary traditional song when I was
leaving. I passed out with multiple awards and scholarships.
Delhi
My first
job
I have two
contrasting experiences of Delhi, the first was the posh South Delhi school
where I was shifted to just when I began adjusting to boarding. On my first day
of class 11th, a saw a girl walks up to her friend and slaps him on
the butt playfully. She then went on to lament how her many boyfriends had been
displaced due to the subdivision of the previous batch. We were now in section
‘A;’, the elite, intellectual class. On my way back, I saw a tall boy opening
the back flap of a new fat guy’s old fashioned, double buckled, schoolbag. The
guy simply closed it again silently. The boy laughed mockingly and opened it
again.
I saw
washroom doors opening and girls with styled hair walking out of them, like models. They wore skirts of length that my mother would have gasped at
disapprovingly.
There would
be a second time I would return to South Delhi, that was for a job in Vasant
Kunj, a peaceful, decent area in the chaotic city.
But I have
more memories of Hari Nagar, the crowded, dusty place that reminded me of home.
Nestled in West Delhi, I stayed in a girls’ PG and took a rickshaw to the
government hospital where I worked. As usual, I had not done my research before
joining and was shocked at the mob of patients which flocked to the OPD. My work
was mainly ultrasound, though they had an old CT machine on which only
emergency head CT scans were possible. Liver abscess and alcoholic patients
were the most encountered types of patients. That was my first experience of
managing independently. I did not explore the city much because I was not smart
enough to navigate using the metro and too scared to trust auto rickshaw drivers.
(I do not drive to date)
A fat aunty owned the girls' residential stay and was always in good spirits. She scolded
the girls who never returned at night on time, but she had a soft spot towards
me. Maybe it was because I paid the rent on time.
Karnataka
My first
love, first college and Radiology
I was lucky
enough to secure a seat in the beautiful campus of Manipal and Mangalore, close
to the sea. I spent the most peaceful years of my life here. I did well
academically and enjoyed life to the maximum on the small, secure, and safe
campus. Although I must say that that type of life is a bit far from the
reality that students face later in life. Everything was at a throw distance, restaurants, canteen, pubs, shops, and the library. Although the library
was never a place I visited, it was too sophisticated, too crowded for me.
Mangalore
life was a bit more real and comparable to city life. There was a struggle,
which was something I never felt in Manipal. Rushing to hospitals (yes, there
were 5 of them), waking up in night duties, struggling with auto drivers in
broken Kannada and receiving disapproving stares in return. But I had the
solace of beaches, the temples were beautiful, the public was very simple and
down to earth, and the locals were friendly. Radiology seminars, exams, and work
kept me busy, and I grew to like the subject. Toxic and non-clinical at first,
later, I felt it was the branch for me.
Later in
life, I re-entered Karnataka, a few years in Belgaum, another beautiful city close
to Goa. I should maybe highlight ‘Goa.’
Although it was a small city, it had all the facilities one could hope
for. I went to Zumba classes, participated in marathons, and enjoyed the
lovely weather the city brags about.
Maharashtra
My
current job, my transformation and survival
When I
first started living in Pune, I never thought I would survive alone. And so did
someone at the hospital tell me- ‘You are not clever and smart enough to
survive here.’ But I had no choice. As goes the quote- You never realise how
strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have.
I took an
accommodation behind the hospital and slowly started to be absorbed into the
environment. It was different. People minded their own business, nobody really
cared what the other was doing, Good in a way, nobody to taunt me on personal
matters, unlike my hometown. No fear of an auto driver taking a wrong turn on
purpose, unlike in Delhi. Safe, peaceful and at the same time happening- that
is Pune. I liked how an elderly man pedalled along the road on a bicycle, wearing a helmet. How
two old ladies said ‘cheers’ as they clinked jars of watermelon juice in a
café.
The food was not too great (compared to North India), the income was less for the cost of living, and there were many pavs (vada pav, keema pav, misal pav..).
Although I
did not like the traffic. I missed a neighbour asking me how my day was. The
city felt slightly cold. I tried to keep myself busy with work, Zumba, events
and the second time I returned to Pune, it was because I had started having
faith in the place. I felt I could survive here, and slowly, as I started
exploring the place on my own, I realised a single lady can more than survive
in this state. She can have a life of self-respect and freedom. Without family,
partner and friends, I did it. And I fell in love again, this time not with a
person, but a place.
Niharika Prasad
