Skip to main content

gorgeous grey..

i have often wondered why r hair turns grey as we grow old..i guess it is to remind us that there is no such thing as 'black' or 'white',or wrong' and 'right'.
life is in one colour and the colour is grey..
grey like the monsoon clouds,thundering with rain.rain which brings both life and destruction..

grey like a winter morning,both refreshingly coll and bitterly cold.

grey like stainless steelwhich speaks of strenght and endurance,but also of hardness and rigidity.

grey like granny's hair speaking of years of joy,years of sorrowbut most of all years of wisdom.

so..this monsoon,when sleet and rain and muck and mud,makes u want to say,"gosh what a dull grey day!!"
remember that grey is the colour of life itself-shades of life merge,happiness is intermingled with the sad.

Comments

Pyromaniaaac said…
Thts a really nice perspective...
Anonymous said…
Kuheli maam thats just so true, life and people are not just black and white but in different shades of grey. And btw I loved your articles 'Rakhi' and 'The cracked mirror' in the college magazine. Love your thoughts and writing stlye. :)

Popular posts from this blog

where have all the toppers gone?

Its result time once more , and the news papers are full of proud toppers and their even more proud parents. Pictures of beaming kids surrounded by their proud parents, aunties uncles and muhalla walas. Each picture comes with its own tale of tireless strife and grim determination. ‘I studied long hours’ ‘I missed out on all the movies’ ‘I didn’t see any IPL matches’ ‘I left home at 4 in the morning for coaching classes’. I went to OPD this morning and while waiting for the first patient, I glanced at the head line ‘Science topper wants to be doctor.’ I smiled. The sisters and working staff inquired why I was smiling, but I just said “nothing.” A few doctor friends asked why I was smiling, and I said ,” the topper wants to be a doctor.” We all smiled, some smirked, some grunted and some out right guffawed. It’s an inside joke. Its been exactly 10 years since I passed my twelvth standard exam, and I wonder what the ‘topper’ will feel after te

The gift

A few days back a close friend of mine received a gift. A large box wrapped in purple gift wrapping, ribbons and all, with a note saying “thank you doctor, from the Martins family” * (name changed to protect privacy) A sweet gesture which a few patients still followed. A token of gratitude apart from the fees they paid and the medical bills. The medical profession has been subjected to major mud slinging in the past few years and small gestures of gratitude and appreciation mean a lot to us trying to do the best we possibly can. But this gift was different. “your patients must really like you .” I said, especially since I knew that many of his patients considered him family, and would get him fruits from their gardens, home made wines or cakes for Christmas, sweets on Diwali. “ the patient died. She had terminal cancer, there wasn’t much that I could do. I didn’t want to take the gift, but the family insisted…” he replied The doctor patient relationship is a tenuo

HOUSE M.D. the indian M.O.

I am such a fanatic fan of House M.D. the weeekly telly serial, that I have withdrawal symptoms if I don't get to see it. His flamboyant, irreverent, brash mannerisms which disguise a sensitive man who plays the piano, strums a guitar, rides a Bike, misses his ex wife, and suffers with his limp.. alone with his Vicodin.. sigh...before I start drooling. What I realised is that we as Indian doctors have a lot in common with the genius doctor. We diagnose patients sometimes by starting treatment 'empirically' and that happens a lot of times among AMO's and medical officers in the PHC's and other primary health care setup's.. sometimes this' empirical' form of treating takes place in teaching hospitals too.. because either the diagnostic test is not available, or the the test is too expensive and the patient can't afford it. So we say ' lets start treatment and , then if it doesn't work start something else.. relying on our clinical