‘ The Lamp Blinked Twice’

 

|| Hari Om ||

‘ The Lamp Blinked Twice’  

“Do you believe in Ghosts ?” He looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes. “ Do you mean the ones with clanking chains and bloodstained clothes? No, definitely not.“ An open-ended reply that invited his next question:  “Is there any other kind of ghost then ?” 

They were sitting on a bench in a quiet part of the Park. The leaves of the nearby trees were rustling gently in the breeze, as a subtle twilight light bathed the surroundings in its surreal hues.

Just a few feet away, the cliff sloped off gently to the sea below. It was a place where you could just stand still, a place to pause and breathe again. 

She grinned. “ Actually, there's a story about this very park ! “ She had a dreamy look in her eyes. He braced himself as she took a deep breath to launch full-tilt into a story.

“ There’s an old street-lamp along the walking path here. Its in a very quiet part of the park, and people generally don’t go there after dark. Only very specific people go there; the ones who wish to communicate with their loved ones, with people who are no longer here. The rumour is that if you walk past that streetlight, thinking of that specific person, they appear there, not physically, but just enough to give you a sign.” She made wide eyes to emphasize the other-worldly-ness of it all. He was more amused by her story-telling antics than by the story itself. 

“ What kind of sign ? “, he asked, dutiful in his role as a listener. 

“When they appear near you, the lamp blinks twice! “, He raised a skeptical eyebrow. She looked hurt at his utter lack of appreciation.

“Come with me, I’ll show you the place.”

They got up and started walking, breathing in the scent of the evening, the sound of the waves providing a subtle music to the scene. They walked on in silence, gathering in the details, saving each moment, trying to focus on trivial things like Ghosts and flickering lights, to avoid thinking about why they were actually there.

Soon, they reached a quieter part of the park. It was probably his imagination, but the air seemed to be very still. All the birds that had been chirping so merrily were silent here, not afraid, but waiting. 

They walked on, and as they rounded the last corner, he saw an old, rusty swing, lit in the orange light of a single old-fashioned gas lamp.

There was definitely something different here, something that brought out strange feelings, nostalgia and longing, as if the past and the present were yearning to meet, separated by only a thin veil of light.

They stood there in silence, would have stood there for God-knows how long. Suddenly, the lamp blinked twice. She looked worried now, he could see it. He felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine too. “ Did you call out to someone ?”, he asked. “No,“ she said, positively frightened now.

“ Why did you ask me that  ? “

“Because,” he paused and pointed a trembling finger over her shoulder: “There’s something behind you !

She turned and saw something large and white move right before her eyes.

She screamed her lungs out and burst into tears.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t control his laughter. The “Ghost” was just a fluffy white cat, sitting largely unconcerned by the world, atop its throne on a fence.

She saw his smile and burst out laughing too. They walked away from the “magic” lamp and back to their peaceful, non-haunted bench.

He thought for a moment and said, serious this time  “If ghosts are just supposed to be the energies of people who have moved on, why is it that they are supposed to be tied to places and things? I think they would be more attached to people”

“ Friends and family, the people we love, I’m sure a part of them is always attached to us, wherever we are. I’m not talking about the dead, but about actual living people. The memories of the time we spend together are enough to call out to each other's souls, even when we are miles apart. Some people don’t need to be there, to be there ! “   

“Aren’t you philosophical today” she laughed, but he could see in her eyes that she knew what he meant. He closed his eyes, at peace in her presence.

When he opened his eyes. She was gone.

He could almost see the after-image of her smile, of her silhouette sitting next to him. 

He shook himself back to the present, a different evening, a different season.

It had been more than a year, but the memory was still crystal clear.

That last evening, before all of them went their separate ways. Friends, from different places, with different pasts and different futures, converging for the briefest of moments before their paths branched out again.

Friends, colleagues, a temporary family, each of them with so many different colours to them.

And each had left a lasting imprint on his mind, none more so than her.

He got up and stretched. He started walking, completing a well-practised ritual, down a path that he had walked a 100 times now. 

He reached the old swing, with “that” lamp, feeling the warm glow inside of the people he carried within. “Some people don’t need to be there, to be there” He stood there in silence, waiting…

A 100 miles away, in another part of the world, in another park, she stood near an old street lamp. 

And as the memories flooded her mind, she looked at the lamp, calling out to those she had left behind, with all her heart,

…. and the lamp blinked twice

…. and the lamp blinked twice

“So when I smile

for no reason or rhyme

I know I’m in your thoughts

as you are in mine”

------------

This story is a work of fiction, however, it is as much the truth. Each of us have people in our lives that matter so much to us, that we carry them in our hearts. Particularly since the start of the pandemic, we have faced the cold reality of isolation and loss like never before. In these times, it is the warmth of our memories, our friends, our families that gives us the strength to keep going. 

And even when it may feel that you are alone and all is lost,  

Have Faith in Him. He is always with you, even without you calling out to Him.

My older blog posts are listed at the top of the page.
If you liked this post, do read the others as well ! All comments and feedback are welcome. Subscribe for updates and new posts. 

  

|| Shree Ram ||

|| Ambadnya ||

|| Naathsanvidh ||

-Dr. Arnav H. Tongaonkar

17/4/2021 

Ward Stories-TMH Tales- Token No. 108

 

|| Hari Om ||

For those of you who do not know me personally, a brief introduction:

 

 I have completed my MD in General Medicine from KEM Hospital in

September 2020.

I joined Tata Memorial Centre, Mumbai as a Senior Resident in Medical Oncology in December 2020.

This is a collection of my thoughts and feelings that I have imbibed in my Oncology residency. This is a branch that not many are ready to step into. A branch everyone, patients and doctors alike, associates with suffering. But where there is suffering, there is hope. And in the midst of darkness, we appreciate the light even more.

At the end of the day, there is a lot more to learn from the patients than the diagnosis and management of their disease! Now, on to the story.

 

Token No. 108

Tired. A strange word to start a story with, but there it was. The Doctor was always tired. Happy and tired, sad and tired, but always tired. Tired was the way of life at the Hospital. So much so, that even though it was a holiday, he was still tired. A person who has been working continuously should jump to embrace the smallest amount of free time. But more often than not, they don’t know what to do, when they actually have time to do it.

He rolled around in bed for a bit, and then decided it would be worth it to at least see a bit of sunlight. He got up, unfolded his tall frame and dressed in the least battered clothes he could find.

He left the building without any real plan. His feet wandered one way, and his mind another. The previous day had been a storm. 150 patients in the OPD, or 150 “tokens” in Hospital lingo, even more than the not so modest 100 that came there everyday. And as the day wore on, everybody grew more and more worn out. Patients and doctors alike.

Without realising it, he reached the entrance of the park nearby. He hesitated at the threshold. It had been a very long time since he had interacted with people other than those suffering from or treating disease. Anyway, a walk couldn’t hurt.

So he followed the beaten little walking path and soaked in the smell of the wet mud as the gardener watered the plants. He heard the chirping of sparrows after months and the birdsong sparked long forgotten feelings in his weary soul. The sunlight played hide-and seek with the shadows of the rustling leaves. He was mesmerized.

Everything was so ordinary, and yet so alien to him. Slowly , the Doctor remembered what it was to be human, and to celebrate the small delights of the soul. A part of him was surprised that such simple beauty and warmth could exist so close to a war zone, the battlefield between health and disease. For a moment, a wave of despair washed over him. He wished he could have more time to himself, more time to spend appreciating life as it was. 

His trance was broken by the sound of children shouting. He followed their little high pitched voices and found two children, a boy and girl, locked in a fierce argument over one of their toys. Their mother was seated on a bench nearby. He watched the scene from afar,  like the audience to a stage drama, appreciating this snapshot of how other people spent their time.

As he approached, he saw that the mother had an expression of such deep and profound joy, as if watching her children play was worth all the riches in the universe. In that moment, her face was awash with a thousand tiny expressions, so much joy, hope, bliss; and also a hint of pain and longing.  Suddenly, he realised that she looked oddly familiar.

She looked up as she saw him approach and raised a hand in greeting. He still couldn’t tell where he had met her. “ Good afternoon doctor, so nice to see you here. “ He knew now that she was somehow related to one of his patients , but still couldn’t place her. She saw his confusion and said.

“We met at the OPD yesterday . I was token number 108 !

I was in a lot of pain, and the medicines you prescribed have really helped. So much so, that I’m up and about today. I’m using this day to spend time with my children.  God bless you for helping me“

He bowed his head and accepted her blessing, said a hasty goodbye and walked away. He had tears in his eyes. To him, she had been a number, a diagnosis with a symptom that he had treated. To see her here changed his perspective totally, the world shattering and realigning  like the turning of a kaleidoscope.

For the first time, he saw the difference that a single medication could make. How treatments literally changed lives and brought smiles to forlorn faces. All the fatigue and work was worth it for this.

The next day, a new OPD. He was still tired.  They all were. But even in his weariness, he saw new light. He saw the patients as more than numbers; it was almost like he could see them carrying their families with them,  waiting to play in the park together. He could see now how he could touch their lives.

It may be the 10^th, the 100^th or even the 200^th patient for him, but it was a loved one, a dear parent, spouse, sibling or child for someone else. So he worked now with renewed vigour, realising that God had sent an Angel, a ray of guiding light  to show him the path forward. His world would forever be changed by Token No. 108

Author’s note

This story is a work of fiction, inspired by feelings and moments that may be completely different from these events. However,  it is also true that many of us medical professionals live a life of sacrifice, away from our loved ones, with almost no time for ourselves.  And in such trying times, it is such tiny moments of joy that give us the strength to keep working, to keep moving forward.

 

My older blog posts are listed at the top of the page.
If you liked this post, do read the others as well ! All comments and feedback are welcome. Subscribe for updates and new posts. 

-          Dr. Arnav H. Tongaonkar

       11/3/21

|| Shree Ram ||

|| Ambadnya ||

|| Naathsanvidh ||

 || Jai Jagdamba Jai Durge ||

|| I Love You my Dad ||

 

 

 

 

 

Ward Stories- TMH Tales- The Healer

 

|| Hari Om||

 

For those of you who do not know me personally, a brief introduction:

 

 I have completed my MD in General Medicine from KEM Hospital in September 2020.

I joined Tata Memorial Centre, Mumbai as a Senior Resident in Medical Oncology in December 2020.

 

This is a collection of my thoughts at the end of a month of Oncology residency. This is a branch that not many are ready to step into. A branch everyone, patients and doctors alike, associates with suffering. But where there is suffering, there is hope. And in the midst of darkness, we appreciate the light even more.

At the end of the day, there is a lot more to learn from the patients than the diagnosis and management of their disease! Now, on to the story.

 

 

The Healer

He rubbed his weary eyes. The blurred passageway came back into focus. It was 6am. Much earlier than his usual waking timings. He wasn’t even sure what time he had slept the previous night.

In residency, adequate sleep always seemed like the horizon: beautiful and desirable, but never quite within reach. So he walked on, in a semi-trance of his own. He reached the ward before he even realized
where he was. He took a moment to compose himself. He was The Healer. It was his duty to look happy and warm, so that the patients felt the same. 

  

As he stepped in, the nurses announced: “Doctor, there’s a new admission in room 3” . His heart skipped a beat. A new admission meant new investigations and a tonne of new work. He blinked a couple of times. Then a voice inside spoke softly: that also means there’s a new life for you to touch. Keep going.

So he restored his smile to its previous quality and knocked gently on the door.

“Come in” said a frail voice. He opened the door. Stepped inside.. She lay there in bed. Emaciated and frail, with pillows propping her up. Her eyes closed, blissful. As she heard him approach, she looked at him, and she smiled. And in that moment, everything changed. Like the  Alchemy of legend was said to turn metals into gold with its very touch, so her smile transformed her face, her very appearance, from one of misery to one of pure energy. There was a light in her eyes, something that no disease could put out.

And as he spoke to her,  his world shifted like a kaleidoscope. Here was a person who had been through a lifetime of suffering, or so it seemed to him, but she still found a reason to stay happy. She could still smile like that. She was at peace with her present, and the future, the prognosis which seemed so bleak to him, well, she was at peace with that too. He carried the strange magic of that encounter with him throughout the day as a Talisman. If she could smile, he really should be able to work with a smile.

 

 

He ended up spending more time in room 3, he learned about her family, her interests and small joys. A simple thing like being able to speak to her loved ones, brought so much joy to her. It brought new light to his eyes. While the world saw only her suffering and how the treatment would only prolong the inevitable, he could see how much joy a person could fit into each stolen moment.

Just a year’s survival benefit was after all a year spent in the company of loved ones.

He ended up spending more and more time in each room. For each person there was more than a bed number. They and their families all had stories to tell. And The Healer, far away from his own family, found peace and solace with them, recovering little pieces of himself that he had lost along the way. He joined Room 8 in their prayers, he laughed with Room 2 when they spilled their juice, he watched silently from the corner as the family in room 4 hugged each other, slowly understanding the gravity of the diagnosis. He saw the power of a simple touch when Doctors started their rounds by keeping a hand on the patient’s pulse,  forming a bond that cannot really be quantified by science.

And so it was for all the Healers. They began to appreciate the smallest joys in their own lives, began to understand how to make their patients smile. And that was the most fulfilling thing of all,  for there is no feeling like watch a critically ill person forget their pain, just for a moment and smile. Slowly, part by part, their weariness melted away. And they Healed. It was not work anymore. It was truly their calling. The disease and its treatment would always be a formidable task. The least they could do was face it with a smile, together, as best as they could.

That evening, they gathered at the balcony. Doctors and patients together, to watch the sunset.

The sky was awash with a thousand colours. The Healer looked around, until his eyes found her. There she was. The Lady of room 3. Looking the picture of calm in her wheelchair. A pint of intravenous fluid solemnly dripping from the stand, her husband by her side, holding her hand. She saw him, and she smiled that smile. And as the colours changed from the vibrant oranges to the cool blues of evening, it became clear to him. She was the Healer. She had brought him back to life, helped him understand his purpose, to find himself again.

And so it was for all of them.

 

 

( This story is a work of fiction, based on my thoughts, feelings and ideas. )

 

My older blog posts are listed at the top of the page.
If you liked this post, do read the others as well ! All comments and feedback are welcome. Subscribe for updates and new posts.

 

|| Shree Ram ||

|| Ambadnya ||

|| Naathsanvidh ||

 || I Love you my Dad ||

Dr. Arnav H. Tongaonkar

22/1/21

 

Sunset Photography

 || Hari Om ||

Sunset Photography

Reader beware: do not let the title deceive you! Though I am an enthusiastic (amateur) photographer with a particular obsession for sunsets, this blog post is not about the technicalities of photography (which I don’t know anyway ;) )

Rather, this is bunch of thoughts that have been going through my mind over the last few months. Before getting to the bone of the topic, let me give you the backstory; a bit of preamble so to speak.

I have recently cleared my MD General Medicine and also secured a good rank for my Superspeciality entrance. I have spent most of the last few months completely immersed in the preparation. In fact, since 2016, the rollercoaster ride which started from my internship has continued through the highs and lows of residency, right through to this moment, without much of a pause or breather. 

Still, it was during these last few months of preparation, as I was watching the changing hues of the setting sun; from the windows of our house, with my parents, that the seed of this idea sprang to life!

There was a single moment frozen in time, when by some miracle of nature, the entire sky was lit in a soft orange. It was as if we had stepped into Heaven, and everything had turned to gold. There was such beauty, that you could feel the energy in the air. Yet, this beauty was something that no camera could capture.

No camera, except one. The Human Eye, the camera made by that Great Craftsman.

And I still carry that moment, the bliss of that evening, the company of those dearest to me, as treasured memory.

That moment got me thinking, about photographs, and what they really mean.

These days, we are so busy capturing moments with our devices that maybe, just maybe, we forget to capture them with the devices God has already provided us with.

The real photography is in savouring the moment, enjoying the company of our loved ones; tasting the salt in the breeze at the sea-side; feeling the breeze upon your skin.

And then, when you look at the long-faded photo that you clicked that day, everything else that you felt comes back to you.

It is a great temptation to say: “I wish this would last forever, that we could watch the sunset together, everyday”. The truth is, we all have work to do, which cannot just be swept aside. And perhaps the real beauty of such moments, is that they are fleeting, a small gateway into a different world, which gives you the energy to keep moving. It is said that nothing lasts forever; I disagree. Maybe everything last forever, we just have to take a moment to “save the file”, so to speak.

Is finding beauty only about going to exotic places and scenic locations? Well, it isn’t, at least to me. I find true beauty in the little flowers that bloom outside my window, the chirping of the sparrows as they go about their search for food, in the pattering of raindrops, in simple acts of kindness, in the intricate workings of the human body, in the heartbeat that keeps us alive. There is beauty everywhere, all we need is a moment, a moment to open our eyes.

I always hoped and prayed that I would get some time off to rest and relax, and I got much more than I had ever hoped. But it is more than that: The One I was praying to showed me that I would find happiness and bliss not by waiting for some perfect occurrence, but by enjoying and treasuring the little moments of joy He gives me, everyday.

So, when you get those little moments of peace, treasure them, preserve them. And later, come calm or storm, close your eyes and let them take you away, into the photograph.

You may click a photograph, you may share it everywhere on social media, but at the end of the day, only you know what feeling you were trying to capture. That’s what makes it even more precious!

So, I close my eyes and let my mind take me away, to the beach, the place which has always been the closest to my heart. I can feel the sand beneath my feet, feel the breeze gently ruffling my hair. With closed eyes, I see the hues of the setting sun, as the sky is ablaze, with more shades of red, orange purple and pink than I can name. A thousand photographs, a thousand paintings on the canvas of the Great Artist. As I admire the Creation, I dive deeper and deeper and am immersed in the beauty of the Creator. For He that made such beauty, must be so beautiful Himself. And as the waves tap gently against my feet, I look to horizon. I see Him there, standing with His arms wide open, waiting for me. Welcoming me home. I open my eyes, and I see Him still.

|| Shree Ram || || Ambadnya || || Naathsanvidh ||

- Dr. Arnav H. Tongaonkar 

20/10/2020

My older blog posts are listed at the top of the page.
If you liked this post, do read the others as well ! All comments and feedback are welcome.