"Hey everyone. I'm Deepa Subash Mysore, from San Francisco, CA. Well, Medical School is something that happened to me out of the blue and hence, unlike all you guys, I don't have a specific reason as to why I 'wanted' to be a doctor. Other than that, I love playing the keyboard and traveling. Well, see y'all around then. Cheers".
That was my fresher's speech at the most boring 'freshers' day' ever in history! As I awed at the oil-factory in the samosas and pakodas that went with tea, and the dress-code of 'salwar kameez' that I couldn't even spell; my batch mates awed at me for being an ABCD, which in their lingo was old-school for American-Born-Confused-Desi. Here I was, at a City that made my Surname and yet, a place I had never been to before.
My Parents, both Indian Physicians, had migrated to the United States Of America way back in the 1980s, even before I was conceived. Maybe they fancied that country more than their Motherland, or maybe work and the country kept them busy enough not to get back to India, not even for vacations. The fact that most of their kith and kin had also made America their abode, gave them all the more reason to stick around. As I grew up, except for my name, family and skin, nothing in me was 'Indian'. Infact it took time for me to even realize that there isn't any language called 'Indian'. When I was done with School and was to get into College, my Parents insisted that I get into Medical School. But I, always thought Medicine and Law and the like were for boring people and not for me. But, unable to convince them that I wouldn't be enjoying it, I made other plans. I intentionally didn't fare well in the MCAT Exams. Nevertheless, my strategists Parents dumped me at a Medical College in Mysore, India, after paying a large amount of money, that was the norm for N.R.I. students and sparing me the Entrance Exams. Students in India were working their back off to get through pre-med and hoping like crazy to get into Med school. And there I was,having no idea why the world(read my parents) was doing this to me! But well, for some unknown reason, I didn't fight it much.
Things were okay until my flight landed at the Bangalore International Airport, and I boarded the Vaayu Vajra Volvo Bus to the Bus Station. Just after that, I was living a nightmare! Why on earth was the Bus Terminal at Bangalore called 'Majestic'? What was so majestic about the place? It looked like the biggest chaos I had ever seen in my life! Preparing myself for the pleasant and not-so-pleasant surprises that were yet to come my way, I reached Mysore. I got myself geared up to spend the next five and a half years of my life at the campus of J.S.S. Medical College. In a couple of days,Lectures started and I sucked!. I found everything weird, and weirder. The bossism of the teachers didn't do down well with me. Rules were rigid, competition was too much and I suffocated. The students fighting over every chance to dissect the Cadaver, the Histology diagrams always going wrong, pricking one's own finger for those drops of blood for the haematology blood-count experiments, and worse - so many charts and tables to know by-heart. Aarrgh! I hated it. Very soon, the N.R.I. me was an outcast. I couldn't figure out if the students had made me one, or I myself had.
Come weekends and I hardly had any company to hang out at a pub or so. The city being a small one, went to sleep early too. As they say, destructive things are easier to happen, I befriended a couple of students from other countries supposedly 'pursuing' different courses here. I should have been friends with the ones who liked their stuff, but instead I had chosen the ones who complained about every single thing around them, just like myself. What followed was obvious. I stayed away from classes, partied hard, went on vacations, flunked exams , and basically- wasted time.
One fine morning, I realised that this was not what I was here for. Being a useless-bug was not me. I wanted to do something with my life and the best option that was in front of me, was to go back to College. But that wasn't an easy task for me. I realised that I needed a break and hence, decided to travel across the region I lived, alone. What I had in store, was nothing less than a treasure. Who said India was a poor country? The sea and beaches at Kanyakumari, the hills and tea estates at Munnar, the Jog falls and the Western Ghats in Karnataka, left me wanting to see more of India's rich nature. The hospitality and harmony with which the people lived here was something the world could learn from. There were petty villages with poor people sure. But the broad smile on their face and the authentic cuisines which changed from one region to another were so Wow! We are always taught to treat guests well, but only in this country do they mean what they say- 'Athithi devobhava'!.
Back to College, I started afresh. All I had to do was return the smile I got from my batch mates and they were more than happy to help. Friends, happened within no time. Dhanya, a half Punjabi and half Mysorean, who later went to be my best-friend-forever, insisted that I shift base from the hostel to her home. Her family, unlike what I expected, were more than welcoming. Inviting an outsider to stay at your place for 5 years odd wouldn't have been something I would have done. But well, this wasn't me. It was them! Within a few minutes after I stepped into their house, I had turned from 'Deepa' to 'Beti'. So much affection in so less time? Was again another point to be added to my 'What I love about India' list. The bond that Indian families share is one of a kind. They don't just come together at Holidays. They live together, everyday. They share duties and responsibilities, joy and laughter, sorrow and tears with so much ease as though they have a gene in their chromosomes just for this. Relationships weren't as simple as brother and sister or uncle and aunt. It was specific for every kind of it - anna, akka, thangi, thamma, maava, aththe, chikkamma, chikkappa, dhodamma, dhodappa; well, the list continued. And there were different versions of this in different languages too! These little things were what made these relationships so special I guess. As I lived there and it kinda became 'home' for me, the essence of India slowly started to sink in. Festivals followed and the pomp that came with it- prayers, rangolis, sweets, lights, fireworks, colors, was nothing less than a cultural extravaganza. It was only at Deepavali, that I understood the actual meaning of my name. Deepa - A Light to lead the world away from darkness. I couldn't hold my tears when Ajji said, 'When you become a Doctor, you shall treat the sick and lead them into the light of health from the darkness of disease.' Well, maybe 20 years ago, my parents thought so too!
At college, I fared nothing less than 'great'. Though I had initially frowned upon my Parents' decision of getting me here, now I was thankful to them for the same with all my heart. I started learning the languages too and ended up mixing Hindi and Kannada with English. My friends were the best language tutors I could bargain for. The first line they taught me in Hindi was, "main tumse pyaar karthi hoon", supposedly meaning, 'how r u?'! Seriously? Wonder what was 'I love you' then! The Nurses at the Hospital, addressed as 'Sisters' and 'Brothers', were a sweet bunch to work with. Every morning, they would greet me with a 'thindi aaytha?' (meaning 'had breakfast?' in Kannada) and I would fluently reply 'aaythu'. From being an almost-firangi who couldn't pronounce a patient's name if it was Savithramma, I went on to be able to explain the risks, benefits and procedure of a surgery to a patient. And all that, in Kannada!
India is rich. India is glorious. India has so much treasure in itself, that the more you experience, the more is left to explore. India has something to offer to everyone who come here, be it oldies or youngsters. Tourists and the like have amazing experiences here and come back for more. For me, it had helped me realise my roots. I was way more Indian and less ABCD. With Utmost satisfaction and at the same time, a heavy heart to leave the country, I stopped my tears and boarded my flight to San Francisco. For reasons, obligations and other perspectives, I had to return to the US, at least for then. Today, on the August 15th, the Independence day, far away from India at St.Mark's Hospital in San Francisco, I sat in my office staring at the miniature India Flag on my table. Memories raced through my mind as though it were happening right in front of my eyes. I was just telling myself, 'India is indeed incredible', and there was a knock on my door. It was turn for me to see my next Patient. As he walked in, as destiny would have maybe wanted it, I noticed that he happened to be an elderly Sardarji! Well, I couldn't help, but stand up and great him with, 'Satsriyakaal Papaji'.
My Parents, both Indian Physicians, had migrated to the United States Of America way back in the 1980s, even before I was conceived. Maybe they fancied that country more than their Motherland, or maybe work and the country kept them busy enough not to get back to India, not even for vacations. The fact that most of their kith and kin had also made America their abode, gave them all the more reason to stick around. As I grew up, except for my name, family and skin, nothing in me was 'Indian'. Infact it took time for me to even realize that there isn't any language called 'Indian'. When I was done with School and was to get into College, my Parents insisted that I get into Medical School. But I, always thought Medicine and Law and the like were for boring people and not for me. But, unable to convince them that I wouldn't be enjoying it, I made other plans. I intentionally didn't fare well in the MCAT Exams. Nevertheless, my strategists Parents dumped me at a Medical College in Mysore, India, after paying a large amount of money, that was the norm for N.R.I. students and sparing me the Entrance Exams. Students in India were working their back off to get through pre-med and hoping like crazy to get into Med school. And there I was,having no idea why the world(read my parents) was doing this to me! But well, for some unknown reason, I didn't fight it much.
Things were okay until my flight landed at the Bangalore International Airport, and I boarded the Vaayu Vajra Volvo Bus to the Bus Station. Just after that, I was living a nightmare! Why on earth was the Bus Terminal at Bangalore called 'Majestic'? What was so majestic about the place? It looked like the biggest chaos I had ever seen in my life! Preparing myself for the pleasant and not-so-pleasant surprises that were yet to come my way, I reached Mysore. I got myself geared up to spend the next five and a half years of my life at the campus of J.S.S. Medical College. In a couple of days,Lectures started and I sucked!. I found everything weird, and weirder. The bossism of the teachers didn't do down well with me. Rules were rigid, competition was too much and I suffocated. The students fighting over every chance to dissect the Cadaver, the Histology diagrams always going wrong, pricking one's own finger for those drops of blood for the haematology blood-count experiments, and worse - so many charts and tables to know by-heart. Aarrgh! I hated it. Very soon, the N.R.I. me was an outcast. I couldn't figure out if the students had made me one, or I myself had.Come weekends and I hardly had any company to hang out at a pub or so. The city being a small one, went to sleep early too. As they say, destructive things are easier to happen, I befriended a couple of students from other countries supposedly 'pursuing' different courses here. I should have been friends with the ones who liked their stuff, but instead I had chosen the ones who complained about every single thing around them, just like myself. What followed was obvious. I stayed away from classes, partied hard, went on vacations, flunked exams , and basically- wasted time.
One fine morning, I realised that this was not what I was here for. Being a useless-bug was not me. I wanted to do something with my life and the best option that was in front of me, was to go back to College. But that wasn't an easy task for me. I realised that I needed a break and hence, decided to travel across the region I lived, alone. What I had in store, was nothing less than a treasure. Who said India was a poor country? The sea and beaches at Kanyakumari, the hills and tea estates at Munnar, the Jog falls and the Western Ghats in Karnataka, left me wanting to see more of India's rich nature. The hospitality and harmony with which the people lived here was something the world could learn from. There were petty villages with poor people sure. But the broad smile on their face and the authentic cuisines which changed from one region to another were so Wow! We are always taught to treat guests well, but only in this country do they mean what they say- 'Athithi devobhava'!. Back to College, I started afresh. All I had to do was return the smile I got from my batch mates and they were more than happy to help. Friends, happened within no time. Dhanya, a half Punjabi and half Mysorean, who later went to be my best-friend-forever, insisted that I shift base from the hostel to her home. Her family, unlike what I expected, were more than welcoming. Inviting an outsider to stay at your place for 5 years odd wouldn't have been something I would have done. But well, this wasn't me. It was them! Within a few minutes after I stepped into their house, I had turned from 'Deepa' to 'Beti'. So much affection in so less time? Was again another point to be added to my 'What I love about India' list. The bond that Indian families share is one of a kind. They don't just come together at Holidays. They live together, everyday. They share duties and responsibilities, joy and laughter, sorrow and tears with so much ease as though they have a gene in their chromosomes just for this. Relationships weren't as simple as brother and sister or uncle and aunt. It was specific for every kind of it - anna, akka, thangi, thamma, maava, aththe, chikkamma, chikkappa, dhodamma, dhodappa; well, the list continued. And there were different versions of this in different languages too! These little things were what made these relationships so special I guess. As I lived there and it kinda became 'home' for me, the essence of India slowly started to sink in. Festivals followed and the pomp that came with it- prayers, rangolis, sweets, lights, fireworks, colors, was nothing less than a cultural extravaganza. It was only at Deepavali, that I understood the actual meaning of my name. Deepa - A Light to lead the world away from darkness. I couldn't hold my tears when Ajji said, 'When you become a Doctor, you shall treat the sick and lead them into the light of health from the darkness of disease.' Well, maybe 20 years ago, my parents thought so too!
At college, I fared nothing less than 'great'. Though I had initially frowned upon my Parents' decision of getting me here, now I was thankful to them for the same with all my heart. I started learning the languages too and ended up mixing Hindi and Kannada with English. My friends were the best language tutors I could bargain for. The first line they taught me in Hindi was, "main tumse pyaar karthi hoon", supposedly meaning, 'how r u?'! Seriously? Wonder what was 'I love you' then! The Nurses at the Hospital, addressed as 'Sisters' and 'Brothers', were a sweet bunch to work with. Every morning, they would greet me with a 'thindi aaytha?' (meaning 'had breakfast?' in Kannada) and I would fluently reply 'aaythu'. From being an almost-firangi who couldn't pronounce a patient's name if it was Savithramma, I went on to be able to explain the risks, benefits and procedure of a surgery to a patient. And all that, in Kannada!
Within no time, the 5.5 years passed by. When we Graduated and were administered the Hippocrates Oath, I had two families by my side - my biological one and the other, who made me one among themselves for the past 5.5 years. As friends parted ways after promising each other a million times to be in touch, Dhanya's wedding happened and it was indeed a Big Fat Indian Wedding. The Rokah, Sagaai, Sangeeth, Mehendi, the music, dance, joy,friends and family, celebrations,Baarath and the final Phere and Mangalsutra; the whole journey was amazing.It was Culture at its peak. It made me tell myself, 'It happens only in India'.
India is rich. India is glorious. India has so much treasure in itself, that the more you experience, the more is left to explore. India has something to offer to everyone who come here, be it oldies or youngsters. Tourists and the like have amazing experiences here and come back for more. For me, it had helped me realise my roots. I was way more Indian and less ABCD. With Utmost satisfaction and at the same time, a heavy heart to leave the country, I stopped my tears and boarded my flight to San Francisco. For reasons, obligations and other perspectives, I had to return to the US, at least for then. Today, on the August 15th, the Independence day, far away from India at St.Mark's Hospital in San Francisco, I sat in my office staring at the miniature India Flag on my table. Memories raced through my mind as though it were happening right in front of my eyes. I was just telling myself, 'India is indeed incredible', and there was a knock on my door. It was turn for me to see my next Patient. As he walked in, as destiny would have maybe wanted it, I noticed that he happened to be an elderly Sardarji! Well, I couldn't help, but stand up and great him with, 'Satsriyakaal Papaji'.
Until the next story,
Chandana Shekar
