RAIN

RAIN

I conceal my tears
With the rain drops
Falling on my head
Curving around my forehead,
Trickling down my cheek,
To splash themselves
Into a muddle of muddy darkness.
Alas, who knows what’s water
And what’s tear,
How to differentiate the two.
I have anyway mastered
The art of faking,
With fake smiles
Over hidden scars,
With forced laughter
Over gray faces,

Trying everyday
To be better than
The previous,
Faking it, until I believe it.
But, these breakdowns
Come in my way,
Whenever I become fake,
They peer down on me
Like my reality,
It’s the only thing that hasn’t left me.
And maybe it never will!
A constant companion to
Remind you of all the hurt
To make it much worse.

I drown my screams
In the raindrops and hail
Storming at my window
Because muffled cries
Aren’t relieving
As the hopeless
Painful ones.

And you will again realise
There’s company in laughter
And loneliness in sadness

– ©Saad Ahmed Siddiqui

Instagram – @introspectivefallout

#poetryslam
#poetic
#igpoets
#poetsociety
#poetscommunity
#poetryisnotdead
#poetryislife
#poetryofig
#poetrylovers
#poetryofinstagram
#poetrygram
#poetry
#poetryinmotion
#poetryporn
#poetrysociety
#poetrycommunity
#poetrylove
#poetryoftheday
#writersofig
#writersblock
#writersofindia
#writerscorner
#writerssociety
#writercommunity
#writers
#writersnetwork
#writercommunity

Advertisements

Vases

VASES

Some vases break,
With a loud thud.
A despicable sound
Breaking into a
Hundred pieces.
Scattered around
Everywhere.
With,
People beginning
To pick them up again,
Trying their best
To conjoin them
From the broken pieces,
Gluing them together.
Realizing
That all broken
Things can’t be easily mended.

Some vases don’t break,
There’s no loud thud,
But multiple
Cries of falling,
No, not those
Deafening cries
Or screeching wails,
But,
Soft muffled sobs
Quiet and unheard,
With no broken pieces,
With no one to conjoin them,
With no one to glue them,
Because no one can see
The vase is already broken.

Labels

Stop labeling people

As if they were products of

The same clone,

Telling them

To act in a particular way,

To react in a particular way,

Encouraging them not to be different,

Because anything different is weird?

And if somehow they ended up different,

You try your best to make them the same?

Because cattle,

Who don’t follow the herd are lost?

Maybe they were

Making their own way.

Stop labeling people

To conform to social behaviors

And gender rules,

Labels with Instructions

Terms and Conditions

And on tips on

How to use them?

But there are ones

Who won’t follow instructions.

And you know what happens then? Chaos

Because there are ones

Who won’t tick

‘I accept the terms and conditions’

And still confirm themselves.

There are girls who sizzle in

Everything but pink

And then there are ones

Who love being tomboys

There are guys who love pink

And then there are some

Who’ll crossdress.

There are girls who don’t put makeup

There are guys who paint their nails.

There are people who like the other sex.

There are people who like their own sex

And there are those who like both.

How will you put all of them in your behaviour box,

When they were meant to outstand?

So outstanding,

Ditch the fork,

Eat with your hands,

Walk the way you want,

Sit cross-legged,

Sleep on multiple chairs,

Remove your shoes if they don’t smell,

Dance like crazy, even if they watch,

Create your own signature steps,

Wear baggy jeans when everyone’s

Going skinny.

Nurture your own fashion sense,

Maybe you’ll be a disaster, so what!

Laugh like crazy,

Walk like crazy,

Run like crazy.

Be whatever you want,

Do whatever you want,

And

Let them judge you,

Let them mock you

You judge them back

For judging you and

Trust me,

The judge judge game is fun.

Untamed

The tiny pieces are
Strewn across,
After your heart,
Slipped from your fragile
Hand.
Leaving you
Confused as to
How to collect and
conjoin
Your life
From shards,
That pierce and prick,
And pain and bleed.
Wouldn’t it be
Easier to sweep
Them away,
Better to be never seen!
peace
In emotional numbing.

You think
People will do
What you think,
Embrace and love
You through thick and thin,
But they’re humans
Incomplete souls still
Looking for meaning,
In their life,
And here,
You are,
Waiting for them
To complete you

Expectations like
Parasites, are
Creeping inside,
Slowly eating
Away all your peace.
Leaving you hollow,
Craving more love.

Hollow soul is what,
They leave you.
You crave more, get less
And thus your
Vicious cycle begins.
Turmoil and storms inside
You breathe,
Havoc and chaos,
You are.
The calamities that
You store,
Draining you of energy.
But,
even the strongest of
Dams break with
Untamed rivers.
Ready with
Massive power to wreck havoc
Upon itself and others.

It’s only in destruction,
That lies creation,
Sometimes better worlds
Await
Following disasters.
And
Civilisations arise
From forest fires.
Sometimes,
Drowning teaches
You how to swim,
Only after falling,
You learn how to cycle,
Only after slipping,
You learn how to balance.
And only after breaking,
You learn how to love yourself.
And in loving yourself,
You learn how to love again.

Werewolf

WEREWOLF

You were the full moon, 

Bright, glistening,

Shining and reflecting,

Even in the darkest of nights. 

I had thought of you then, 

As a reflection of me,

And my emotions, 

Meant to bring out the better in me,

Guiding me in the dark. 

But, little did I know, ,

You were a parasite,

Feeding of me, destroying me. 


The light ranging on my savage soul, 

That you cast from your thieved light, 

Begins changes in me,

And soon I’m unaware of what I have become,

A man,

Or a monster or a

Hideous combination of the two

What did they call you? Anxiety! 

Hadn’t heard of you before. 


Suddenly you come, 

Not restricted to monthly timetables, 

Feeding on subconscious stresses, 

And discarded thoughts, 

Magnifying them, 

Till my whole body bears the brunt. 


The transformation begins,

Without any set ritual 

My heart begins striking against the chest, 

Attempting to break free from confines, 

I feel, the rhythm with which I beat

And the rhythm which does beat me, 

I am palpitating, till

Palpitations become normal, 

And soon I’m living

Between palpitations, 

A missed heart beat is closer to life, not to death! 

 

My throat aches, 

Mouth turns dry, 

I gasp for breath, 

Which gleefully does ditch me, 

And soon I’m 

Claustrophobic in the open, . 

Trapped, 

Trying frantically to get out, 

My soul from my body 

My mind from my brain, 

My feelings from my heart.


I’m unable to eat, 

The problems are not enough to digest, 

I try to vomit them out, 

But they are still nauseating,

Clouding my mind, 

My mind has become a canvas

For painting the worst of scenarios, 

Where timid decisions turn into catastrophic consequences, 

And there’s only hell, no heaven. 


There’s fatigue without exertion,

There’s fever without infection, 

There’s tremor without explanation, 

There’s sweating without elucidation. 


And that’s what I have become, 

A werewolf howling at the white moon, 

My creator.

Transforming every now and then,

At the whims of the white moon.


But, this mind belongs to me,

These thoughts are my creation, 

There is power in belief,

And magic in faith,

Sooner than you know,

I’ll transform myself

Into whatever I wish,

And be whoever I want, honey 

I’ll be my own Animagus!

Medicine in Bonds 

MEDICINE IN BONDS
‘Paracetamol. Refer. Repeat’ 
I’m not against giving back to the community and serving the society but with the current scenario, I couldn’t help but wonder the loopholes that are fraught with the bond service and if it’s not looked into, it would be a waste of time and money for us, for the government and for the people. Obligation of duties can never be a solution. 
Dear ‘To Whomsoever it maybe concerned’ 
1. You have not trained us during our final year and internship to handle emergencies. We know the names of the drugs, the side effects, the actions, we might even have mugged the dosage, the route, any special precautions to be taken, but ultimately medicine is as much art it is as science. If we haven’t been taught how to tackle medical emergencies, how do you expect us to be any good in a rural area, just after internship? Apart from treating ‘uncomplicated fever’ and referring, we won’t be of any help. 
Why don’t you try to train us better? The medical education system that you have created us have made us rote textbook learners who know to ask history in a prescribed format, that too according to the prescribed books, history format which is going around since years and ultimately not used by any of the clinicians I have met. Killing creativity and not letting questions be asked has made us stereotyped vessels functioning in a particular way. Wouldn’t it be prudent to enhance creativity and research, and to teach us the practical dilemmas that we have while treating patients; patients that an average MBBS doctor should be able to manage. 
2. Have you ever been to a PHC and seen the infrastructure there? With the limited amount of drugs, diagnostic facilities and expertise available in such areas, we wouldn’t be able to do anything substantial. It would be a waste of time for us because we won’t do anything but refer. What advantage does it do? Neither are the people benefiting nor us neither is the load on tertiary health care centres reducing. 
3. Why haven’t you asked the Government to increase the GDP spent on healthcare before making us scapegoats? The GDP is less than countries like Uganda and Ghana, why don’t you do something about it and ask the Government to increase the budget on health. The government can spend money on statues and coastal roads but can’t provide better healthcare but are there in any accident causing mass casualties to pay fake condolences. 
4. If you wish for people to provide in the rural areas, I’m sure many of them would be willing. But you don’t provide the right incentives for people to serve in the rural areas. If they are provided, then many will opt for serving the rural areas. There are many states which are functioning well and providing for their people without a bond, why don’t you take lessons from them? 
5. Even if the bond is applied, are there so many positions there so that you can accommodate all the two thousand odd students that pass out every year, whom you will be sending off to serve their bond. Do you have the money to pay their salaries? Or are you going to ask us to do that for free too. Is it even logistically possible? 
5. If an incident happens during the rural posting, and an MBBS doctor isn’t in a position to handle it, and God forbid if something goes wrong, marring his career, canceling his license or damaging his emotional compass, have you thought about what would you do? Have you thought about all the situations that would arise after your decision, that you consider the Gospel truth?
6. You are well aware of how doctors are becoming easy targets of the frustration of the relatives. Most of these patients do not take care of their health and come at a stage where the doctor cannot do anything. Now, let’s see a PHC, one doctor, dearth of security and multiple relatives. Have you thought of the danger you might be putting the doctors into? Have you thought of enhancing the security? Doctors are beaten up in Mumbai in spite of great security, can you ensure that we won’t be victims of crimes that we didn’t commit?
7. Why are we the only ones to serve a bond? Don’t these people need better infrastructure, better sanitation and health. Why aren’t engineers and architects asked to build better facilities over here. Aren’t they also learning on government money? But it’s fine for them to learn and settle in foreign lands. But if a doctor decides to do the same, you question our morality. Don’t you know that if you upgrade the facilities, provide better sanitation, diseases would decrease of their own accord. Don’t you have any idea of preventive medicine, the third year subject that we were told to learn but never taught. Also, don’t the people residing in the peripheries need dentists and physiotherapists? Oh, maybe they don’t develop problems requiring their presence but the burden of health has to fall upon just born doctors. 
8. Your aim should be to prevent brain drain, and better the system so doctors are morally moved to provide for their people. But this would do nothing but promote brain drain. 
9. You want to create softwares to track us, to tie the bell like a noose, why not implement the software for the million patients that seek health, digitalising it would be a great step to better health. But you wouldn’t use it for the right purpo

And let’s face it, it already takes nearly ten years, sometimes more, not to add the repeat attempts required to crack exams;for a person to become a competent doctor, and the process is frustrating, I can already feel it. Imposing bonds after Ug, Pg and Superspeciality would do nothing but increase the time required to become a doctor. It would be a hindrance for people to take up medicine. 

We will serve the society, that is why we ended up with medicine, but we have our own life too. We aren’t gods, we’re humans too. 

Yours ungratefully, 

A bonded medical student
I don’t know if this post is going to make a difference, but I’ll believe at least I have tried. I believe in the power of social media and maybe it might reach the correct people. It’s an overestimation, but better than doing nothing. 

I request you all to share this, not only for yourself but the whole medical community that you represent when you’re out in the world. We have been at the receiving end of the whims and fancies of the authorities that continuously make new rules to make us prove our credibility and morality, whether it’s NEXT or the bond. 

We had shown considerable unity when one of us was beaten, we need it again because  this is on all of us to at least let know the authorities how we feel about their random breakfast decisions. We have been projected as villains for no fault of us, in media and otherwise and everyone should know of the full story, including our part, because half truths are full lies.

PINK

Pink was not only
the dress she wore, 
The lipstick she adored
Or her favorite handbag. 



Pink was the colour of her lips 
When she landed her first kiss, 
After the romantic night, 
With her first lover.



Pink was her cheek
When she graduated as the valedictorian. 
It mirrored the 
Pink smiles on her parents face. 



Pink was the dress, 
She wore on her honeymoon, 
Lazing under the sun, 
On the private beach.



Pink was her hand
When her newborn held her, 
Gluing them
In lifelong pink. 



Pink was the shirt 
Her husband wore, on
The tenth anniversary 
Of their love. 



Pink was the cake, 
She baked for her
second daughter, 
On her twelfth birthday. 



Pink was the ribbon 
She pinned on her dress, 
When she was diagnosed 
With breast cancer. 



Pink was she, 
Without her breasts, 
With scars and sutures 
Over her heart of pink.