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The past week has been one helluva week. Hectic, emotional and stressful. Hectic because of so much work that I have to finish at my end, emotional because I was missing Dylan. It's not funny how badly I suffered the pangs of separation. Amid all that I had a friend from Australia, Laurie, visiting India after a tour of Tibet and Nepal, and I was playing the perfect host taking him round Delhi. But it has been a pleasant change having Laurie around -- he's matured and old, gentle and reserved and he was getting away from a troubled relationship. If not common, we shared a common frame of mind!

Now I am looking forward to going home this Friday. For one, I will be with my baby Dylan. I love him so much. I will also be meeting my entire clan who will be congregating at my place for the first death anniversary of my mother. It's going to be one big occasion. I wish I was visiting home for a different reason. And this is where the guilt, regrets and sadness creep in... I just wish I had spent more time with my mother. But such is life, you dont't have enough of time on your hands and you are forever running behind time.

I don't how I will pack in family time and work. I plan to do some reporting on the cover story on the north east. But work is turning out to be one party these days what with a boss who loves hitting the dance floor. Last week, Srikanth, our Mumbai head, who's had one rollicking career at the World Bank and who is from Princeton, took us out for dinner and drinks and we ended up at Cafe Morrison, one of Delhi's happening night clubs. And he is serious about making pubbing and dancing a regular feature. Here is someone, who does not feel old or wants to be old -- which is a good thing. I like that attitude about people, because I, too, don't believe in numbers.

Anyway... a funny incident to wrap up this post. The office had a chicken pox scare today. I was narrating this to a friend who laughed his head off. I have been getting all kinds of rashes on my skin. At first, I thought it was bed bugs. But it isn't, because my new roomie is fine and we sleep on the same bed. Next, a colleague who sits quite next to me also complained of a rash and she thought it was passed on through me. I got psyched as another colleague who had chicken pox saw my rashes and pressed the panicked button. Then she took me to the box and examined me thoroughly. Was convinced it was the C-pox. And colleagues wanted to sanitise the workplace!

So, Visakha called her friend who immediately rushed to take me to the nearest Bengali market where a certain Dr Gandhi sits. Dr Gandhi was busy playing solitaire on his machine. Hardly looked at me and sent me to a corner where his attendants were busy mixing and matching medicines. I asked them if they were homeopaths and they said no. And busy doctor refused to give me the prescription until I demanded. Which doctor refuses to give a prescription, I wondered. Also, I had to implore him to examine me. "It's not chicken pox," he said after one glance. Visakha, friend and I were convinced he was a quack. A hundred rupee was his fee."Do you call that lazy or do you call that experienced?" I asked Visaha. Whatever the answer, I am not too confident about popping the pills he gave me. So, I am giving those a pass. Lets see which turn my rashes take me...


Shanti Thokchom said…
nice and good way of throwing away your moolah to such quacks!!!!!!!just for some rashes...!!!!!!!!hmmmmmmmmmmm!!!!!!!!!!!

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