I C U- A Guest Post by My Mother

This is a guest post by my mother. She has written about the time she fell sick and had to admitted to hospital. This is her first blogpost and she has said she will soon start her own blog. Till then, please read this post.

The Bilge Master

I used to always joke about summoning paramedics, and urge my family to book me an ICU (Intensive Care Unit). ICU’s are places generally remote from an ordinary human being’s life. So, if I caught a cold in my head, or the curry didn’t come out nice or if I lost a spirited argument with my son; I would holler for ambulances and booking of ICU’s. Little did I know then that one day I would seriously end up in an ICU with my life seriously threatened, by a disease called septicaemia.

I had been ailing for some time, with a Urinary Tract Infection (UTI). Days passed. Apparently I did not get better, but worsened as the sodium/potassium balance in my body got seriously upset and white blood cell counts rose alarmingly and the poison leaked into the blood; laying all my organs vulnerable. Blissfully, I don’t remember any part of it, but I have since heard from my son and husband that I could not stand, kept falling down, urinated all over the house, because I never quite managed to reach the bathroom in time.

I’m a fifty-three year old housewife. Obese. Riddled with blood sugar, hypertension, and despite urgings from everybody, refuse to walk, follow a healthy diet and spend my time shared between my books and laptop. I love drama and so when the most dramatic thing happened in my life, I was unfortunately quite unaware of it.  The paramedics arrived, the ambulance was summoned and I was driven from Asansol to Durgapur’s Mission Hospital in a semi conscious state.

I don’t remember the emergency room where I was first taken, where the decision to put me into ICU was made. Neither do I remember being wheeled into the ICU and put to bed there. The ICU was a cavernous room where very sick people-both men and women were placed for intensive care. The first couple of days and nights are also now quite lost to me. I remember only blood samples being taken at random, breathing through a mask supplying oxygen and being attached to a monitor . All I wanted was to be left alone to die.

Obviously, in the first couple of days,  my sickness waxed triumphantly and the doctors were finally forced to give me a fifty-fifty chance. I have heard later on, that the doctor in charge of my case had said that he was “trying”. My husband said that he had got nowhere with just “trying” but by doing The consultant was taken aback but by gum he did it. On the third day in the ICU, despit e the channels and the drips and the oxygen mask, I came to myself, and became aware of arteries being cut with needles for blood, bodily thirst for water and I was aware of being attached to a catheter. The vaguest impression of people on either side of me became realistic when they both died and had to be removed. From every bed, emanated pain and extreme suffering. Strapped to my bed, I just watched and realized that this in fact, was ICU.

My bed would be wheeled out, for various tests and back again. Many a time, I felt that I was going away from it all and this meant the nursing staff crowding around and doing things and I would come back.

My husband and son came to visit me regularly. They conferred with doctors. Ventilators were frely spoken of, but I stayed put. The only organs that had been affected by the infection in the blood were the lungs  and they dealt with it.

They were short staffed as far as nursing personnel went, each doing 12 hour shifts, looking after so many. A bunch of young kids really-boys and girls who dealt with death daily and 90% of the time managed to triumph over the old equalizer. They reminded me of my favourite serial, M*A*S*H as they kept sane with crude jokes and basically slapstick comedy. The white blood cells were cowered by the wide spectrum antibiotics. Spread of infection ceased. By the fifth day, I felt hungry. I was now only scared of the ICU and marvelled at those working there day in day out. Finally, I was pronounced stable enough to be moved to a room of my own and the transfer went through.

I left the ICU with mixed feelings. On one hand I was very glad to leave the hall of pain. On the other, deep gratitude, not only to the doctor, but the nurses whose round the clock care had pulled me through. I went to a private room. Here again, I saw the dedication of nursing and doctoring. Finally, nine days after I had gone there, I was allowed to leave the hospital and walked out on my own steam, weak as a cat but alive and well.

I will not sit around anymore. The ICU taught me the value of life and I am going to keep better and hope that nobody has to go there again.

Dust: The Story of a Little Boy

This is a story, with a few people in it. The people are ordinary. Their lives are ordinary. The story is about...well let’s see what it’s about. All I can tell you is it has a little boy in it.

There was once a little boy, you see. He was plump, dressed in shorts all the time, did not like to study and spent his time reading books. His mother used to tell him stories too; but she had an annoying habit of leaving them unfinished.  So, he made up endings to stories all by himself. Usually, they were happy endings. Some, were sad. Most were simple. The first time someone ate ice cream and had a cold. The first time he went to his grandmother’s house and she treated him to Dosa from Udipi’s.

Now, much as we’d like our little boy to remain little; sadly it isn’t so. As time passed the boy grew up. As he grew up, his mind expanded. He became interested in music. He became a fan of some English group with a very strange hairstyle and took to crooning songs at the top of his lungs. He started to take those stories he had written in his youth more seriously and began to compose. He also found he liked to tinker with things and to take things apart.

But then, one evening, the little boy saw something. It was a glimpse rather. A tiny pulse of light. The boy was confused. He could not understand what he had seen. The truth is, he hadn’t seen anything. He had felt something; rather he had sensed someone. But who?

The little boy kept growing, because Time kept passing him by. He kept reading and he kept talking to people. His father, his mother and his grandmother. One thing the boy never understood however; in spite of having grown so much is why people went away. I mean to say- there they were just a few days before and then they sort of went off. They left bodies behind, but then those bodies were not them. The bodies were shells. Where had the people gone?

The boy also remembered glimpsing that same something or someone each time someone went away. Sometimes, he could even tell when someone was going days before they actually left.

And so the boy wondered. Where were all these people? He knew where people came from, he knew about something called “souls”. He subscribed to the belief that “souls” existed. If so, where were the souls?

Then, one day the little boy looked up. He saw stars in the sky. He also felt that someone near him. The little boy realized what he was seeing. He was seeing everyone who had gone away, looking down at him and smiling. His grandmother, who was the first to go. His dog who followed some years later. And most recently, his great grand uncle.

And when the little boy sleeps at night, sometimes he dreams of bad things. He remembers pain. He remembers fears. But then, sometimes he also dreams of the people who have gone and the boy smiles. One day, the little boy, will no longer be called little; and will also go away. He will go up above and he will smile down at another little boy, just like him.

I hope that boy smiles back.

The Bilge Master

Welcome Back, Poets of the Fall!

If you Google Poets of the Fall, the right hand side of your browser shows you a set of pictures, underneath which you have the words "Rock Band". Having seen them live in a concert two years back, I can myself testify to the fact that though they have soft, melodious songs, with slow riffs and soothing music; they can also get up top and barrel out a growling riff and a bass solo with equal panache.  Their new single, "Daze" came out a few hours ago and it seems to me that with it, they are reminding us that they are a rock band.

The video opens with a full moon and a girl driving a Ferarri down a road, while a fast intro plays in the background. Next frame, and Mr. Saaresto comes on screen, dressed to kill. The song is a love song, about passions running amok and it's refrain says it all- "Set the world on fire; with bittersweet desire". I mean wow right?

There are a lot of things going for this song. The vocals and Marko's voice. The general ambience of the video, which is typical rock. The very sound of the track which is reminiscent of the old Poets sound (think "Diamonds for Tears", "Carnival of Rust" and "Lift") and lastly, the hype and joy of having another Poets of the Fall album coming out just before the Dusshera festival here. The release of this single could not have been better timed, in my opinion.

But, here's the thing. I find this song to be the introduction to something bigger and better. If you remember the 2007 romantic comedy "Music and Lyrics"; starring Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore; and the part where Barrymore tells Grant that the songs on his solo album seem to be like dessert as opposed to dinner, then maybe you'll get what I'm saying now.

"Daze" is the ideal entree to a main course, five star dinner; which is the album "Jealous Gods". I am waiting with bated breath and a quivering pulse to see what this album is going to be like. I can only hope that with this album and with the names of the tracks that I've seen on the website- that the Poets are going back to rock.

Check the song out on YouTube under the Poets' official channel- PoetsoftheFallBand.

The Bilge Master

Fly, Robin Fly

Fly Robin, fly,

Up into the big blue sky,

Fill her up with your bright red wings,

Sing for her as you once did for us,

Little Robin don’t be afraid,

Though the Raven is chasing you once again,

He knows not that he cannot win this race,

Robin, we will miss you, and

The Jumanji that you played,

The doctor you portrayed,

And the teacher through whom you

Said, Carpe Diem,

Oh Captain, where have you gone?

Left us to mourn and left us so lost?

Worry not Robin, you still live on,

In the smile on my son’s face when,

He sees you perform.

The Bilge Master

Dream a Lil', Dream a Lot

Pink Floyd, Narnia, Stephen King and Shantam Basu came together to make this poem. So did Isaac Asimov.

Tiger, Deer, Mouse

Big Old House,

Knock, Knock, Knock,

"Watch your step there, Klaus"

Big old clock,

Going, tick and going tock,

"Yes, keep this door locked,

Behind it lurks a world,

Different from ours,

Not for little boys,

Oops must rush"

Klaus goes up,

Outside the door,

Big bright light,

Under the frame,

"Find. The. Key

Set. Yourself. Free."

Klaus wakes up,

Goes to school,

Finds the house,

In his dream,

Opens the door

Sets himself free

Klaus dreams again,

And again, and again

"He's found the key you see,

The child is grown."

"The dream?"

Klaus just smiles.

The Bilge Master

Junkie

Wi-Fi and Bluetooth turning you on,

Gotta get a fix before dawn,

Or your ISP finds the bill overdue,

And cuts off your supply once again,

Sleep is for babies, there's so much to do,

Status updates and Instagram beckon to you,

Lost in a digital maze, with the world before you,

You press "Like" on a Grumpy Cat meme,

Your sister's birthday was your 144th Check In,

Your brother's convocation a WhatsApp conversation,

While your mother got remarried over Skype,

And Google+ dropped by with flowers when your father died,

While all this happened, your youth passed on,

And Life waved goodbye as you played another round of Candy Crush

The Bilge Master

Imaginary

Remember what they told you about Imaginary Friends? 

Arnab, Tanya and Hiren were inseperable. Tanya and Arnab were an item. They had been dating since freshman year. Hiren was well Hiren. He was a bit Goth. Dark tees, with a hood so you really didnt see his face. And the same pair of baggy jeans. Arnab was the sarcastic one, always with a witty retort. Sometimes he was unbearable. As for Tanya, she was the doormouse. She was meek, and kept quiet most of the time. When she did talk, she had a brilliant point though. Arnab was quite wary of her retorts and she could keep him under control mostly.

Hiren on the other hand was almost everyhing these too were not. He was reserved. He talked a lot, but just to them. He always had his mp3 player with him and was headbanging to Avenged Sevenfold or Iron Maiden. If it wasn't that he was on Whatsapp, chatting with this "mysterious" girl he had met; and whom no one had seen.

The three of them stayed together for the most part of college. After that, the placement interviewers came in hordes. Tanya and Arnab got jobs in the same city but for different companies. Hiren didn't say where he had landed up as was his usual response to almost anything. He preferred keeping his personal life to himself. Tanya and Arnab had gone to his house once. They didn't see anything apart from an old, dilapidated cot and some magazines in a corner. There were no photos on the wall or any personal trophies anywhere. They found this odd, but then again, they knew he was a kind of lone wolf.

Time passed. Tanya and Arnab continued to see each other and eventually ended up getting engaged. Their familes knew each other very well and approved the match. Unfortunately, they had never met Hiren; who seemed to be the infamous one in the group, Funnily, even Arnab and Tanya hadn't been seeing Hiren much these days. They knew he was working in Bangalore. That was all. He did show up for the wedding though. He had swapped the tee for a shirt and a pair of formal trousers, but he still had the hoodie. You still had to strain to see his face. 

And one day, Hiren was gone. He just vanished. He did it gradually. Stopped calling. Stopped texting. Tanya and Arnab started to forget what he looked like and what classes they had taken together. One fine day, they woke up and realized he was just gone. 

Meanwhile, Arnab had been promoted to General Manager at his company. This meant he was out late a lot and usually came home in the wee hours of the morning. Tanya was tired out from managing their young daughter, who was still in the toilet training stage; although she was 7. Naturally, the homestead was less than domestic bliss. Fights broke out on a regular basis. Words were said. Tears spilt. Tanya started sleeping in the guest room. Arnab took to drinking a lot.

A few weeks later, Arnab was away at work when he got a text from Tanya. It just said "Hiren is back. Babli saw him". Arnab dropped everything and came home. He found Tanya smiling at him. He was surprised. Tanya told him that Babli (their daughter), had come running to her in the afternoon. She had been playing in the garden and had seen a man. A man dressed in a black tee, with a hoodie and the same jeans that Hiren wore Arnab didn't know how to react to this information. He walked to the sidebar to pour a drink, but found one already poured out for him. He looked up and came face to face with Hiren.

Arnab was shocked at first, and then realized what was going on. Tanya and Arnab were so much in love that that feeling had personified itself into a physical form. Hiren. That's why he was everywhere that they were. That's why he was gone when they started scrapping. He was empathically linked to them. To their love. 

Arnab smiled as he took Tanya into his arms. Hiren was back. Everything would be OK now

The Bilge Master