You gotta take the Bookworm's Word !

Before I explain what this post is all about, I'd like to post an update on my health for those who care. So you read about my twisted ankle and the related frustrations about 20 days ago. I'm glad to be able to say that it's much better now. Except for that little pain that is part of my ankle now, the sprain is almost gone. But you must know me better than to believe that I'm finally fit and fine. Far from it actually. The twisted foot was followed close on heel by a God-only-knows-how-it-happened stomach infection that hasn't gone away even as I write. Loss of appetite, nausea-like symptoms and cold and cough very graciously accompanied, leaving me gastronomically deprived of all my foodie pleasures and orally challenged so as not to be able to even sing for a few days. Gosh...I do sound like a big house of illnesses now that I read what I'm writing!

With that done, I come to the thing that is getting me all excited right now. I've been thinking a lot these past few days. Given the amount of reading I've done in these twenty odd years and the rate at which I devour books, as also how strongly I feel about every book I read, why did I never think of writing reviews on my blog before?!

I personally always prefer to read a decently written review of a book before I shell out money to purchase it. (Reading a borrowed book without a review never hurts, I maintain.) A well written review always makes for some healthy debate and sharing of views among fellow readers.

And so, for none of the aforementioned obvious reasons but purely out of a sudden whim, I hereby introduce another new segment on my blog - The Bookworm's Word.

Under this label, I'll review books that I found to be worthy of my time and probably you would too. Not being one who feels very strongly against any book (they're BOOKS after all), I usually let bad writing slip my radar of criticism (except for really extreme disasters!) I'll strive to review the best of my reads, mostly classics, as first priority, only to launch into wider territories as I proceed. I invite honest feedback on this brainwave of an idea. Let the bouquets and the brickbats flow in!

In the meanwhile, coming back to where I started from - illnesses - I read this really amazing book once and can't help but quote an excerpt that makes a lot of sense to the case in study (being mine).

It is a most extraordinary thing, but I never read a patent medicine advertisement without being impelled to the conclusion that I am suffering from the particular disease therein dealt with in its most virulent form. The diagnosis seems in every case to correspond exactly with all the sensations that I have ever felt.

I remember going to the British Museum one day to read up the treatment for some slight ailment of which I had a touch - hay fever, I fancy it was. I got down the book, and read all I came to read; and then, in an unthinking moment, I idly turned the leaves, and began to indolently study diseases, generally. I forget which was the first distemper I plunged into - some fearful, devastating scourge, I know - and, before I had glanced half down the list of "premonitory symptoms," it was borne in upon me that I had fairly got it.

I sat for awhile, frozen with horror; and then, in the listlessness of despair, I again turned over the pages. I came to typhoid fever - read the symptoms - discovered that I had typhoid fever, must have had it for months without knowing it - wondered what else I had got; turned up St. Vitus's Dance - found, as I expected, that I had that too, - began to get interested in my case, and determined to sift it to the bottom, and so started alphabetically - read up ague, and learnt that I was sickening for it, and that the acute stage would commence in about another fortnight. Bright's disease, I was relieved to find, I had only in a modified form, and, so far as that was concerned, I might live for years. Cholera I had, with severe complications; and diphtheria I seemed to have been born with. I plodded conscientiously through the twenty-six letters, and the only malady I could conclude I had not got was housemaid's knee.

I felt rather hurt about this at first; it seemed somehow to be a sort of slight. Why hadn't I got housemaid's knee? Why this invidious reservation? After a while, however, less grasping feelings prevailed. I reflected that I had every other known malady in the pharmacology, and I grew less selfish, and determined to do without housemaid's knee. Gout, in its most malignant stage, it would appear, had seized me without my being aware of it; and zymosis I had evidently been suffering with from boyhood. There were no more diseases after zymosis, so I concluded there was nothing else the matter with me.

Excerpt from Three Men in a Boat (to say nothing of the dog) - Jerome K. Jerome.

Yeah, those parentheses are very much part of the book title! The e-book is available online and you may download it here (look for the little red download box on the right, it took me forever to find it!) This is one of the funniest books ever written. Written way back in 1889, it is a humorous travelogue chronicling one of the author's holiday boat trips with two of his real life friends, while not to forget the adorable little dog too. No slapstick humour, no nonsensical mockery, no sarcasm - this book is the ultimate classical unadulterated comedy that will have you in splits at the sheer incongruity yet funniness of all that happens with these 3 friends. A sure must-read for every literature enthusiast. And for those who think this isn't really their type, trust me, it would be a welcome change from all that &%^$*#*@ stuff being churned out everyday by the bandwagon of 'young and modern' Indian writers led by our dear old management graduate cum investment banker, Chetan Bhagat. You seriously need to start reading something...erm...finer.

P.S. It feels good to sometimes know that you've been missed. I get to hear these words a lot less often, so it's all the more special to know at least some of my readers really notice my absence. Thank you, Furo!

The Agony of Pain

I remember the first time I talked about my foot issues here on my blog. It was a very long time ago; it was in fact my very second post. Here I stand today, almost two years hence, with my 50th blog post, in what is supposed to be a very proud moment for myself. I even planned to come up with a special post to commemorate this humble milestone of my blog. But as fate would have it, I've turned in with a sprained ankle yet again. And with tired tears rolling down my eyes, I am gonna tell you how it really feels.

I have a prolonged instability issue in my left ankle. Or so the doctor said the last time I consulted. So to say, my ankle keeps on getting twisted every now and then, many a times ending up in a bad swelling or muscle strain. It all started with a very bad fall I had some three and a half years ago, which resulted in an injury that unfortunately went untreated. And now it doesn’t matter anymore how much I treat it every time it occurs. How does that sound to you? Probably something like, this girl cannot even walk properly without falling down. Trust me, the line I sometimes get is, ‘You walk with your head too much into the air to actually notice where you’re walking or what you’re stepping on to’. Pun very much intended for me. Walking about in a crepe bandage (not that I like to flaunt it, but being a student whose college won’t stop functioning for her frequent injuries to heal, I have to instantly get going with zero rest every time) all I get is fake sympathetic glances from colleagues, curious expressions from strangers in the metro and worst of all, mock scolding and digs (like the one I quoted above) by my near and dear ones. Move still closer to home, and they’ve literally stopped taking it seriously now. It isn’t a very rare event really, is it? Just me, getting an ankle sprained every couple of months or so. What would usually follow is some limping around, crepe bandages, smell of strong ointments and possibly pleas for help in procuring things I myself cannot. That’s about it. The whole problem summarized in brief. It’ll come and go away of its own accord, no need to bother.

What the suffering person is undergoing, no one really knows. It’d only be another recurring sprain to you, but I practically go through the agony of this terrible pain every single time. To add to these woes, having to limp about my work and still get everything done like it should be done only increases the agony, also making sure that the injuries never heal completely. Result – the carry forward effect, further worsening the instability. The feeling of being temporarily disabled, of having to take help from indifferent people for things that one could very well do on one’s own at some other time is horrible, to say the least. It nothing short of breaks me from inside at times.

Due to some irresolvable issues, I’ve never really gotten around to figuring out what is really wrong with my ankle. It has to do something with the muscles I believe. All the same, the MRI will find out tomorrow, if indeed I finally manage to get it done, that is. I don’t know. I wanted to write a lot on this today, but I’ve suddenly gone blank. Most of what I said above might not even sound sensible, but then, it is how I feel. And being a restless person, always on the go, always at something - to have my foot bound in bandages and ache at the very thought of walking straight – I have much reason to be frustrated and sad. Wish someone really understood.

Breaking Down

I have been thinking about what my next post should be. It's already been long enough since I wrote. And then I stumbled upon this long-lost piece of poetry that I wrote probably more than a year ago. I thought I would only be fair to it if I finally let it see the light of day. And so, here it is. Might as well be my last poem to come out for a long time to come, given that I am on some kind of a sabbatical from poetry for now.

How helpless can you feel at times
When you just don't know what to do
There's a lump in your throat, your eyes well up
But you have to swallow your tears
And move along with a cheer.

Family, friends, you've got them all
Yet why do you feel like you have no one?
No one you could turn to
No one to call your own
You end up standing alone
Lost in this crowd of intimate strangers.

You know you're losing this one-sided fight
And a mute spectator to your own turbulent life
You feel suffocated, dying to cry out
A strangely profound fear fills your heart.

You've lost your courage, you've lost your spirit
You've lost all sense of retribution
You've lost your faith, your mind is in tumult
Either you break out of this deluge
Or it tears you down.

You act like you're fine, you smile, you laugh
But you're falling to pieces with every silent blow
You tell yourself, this too shall pass
But somewhere deep inside, you know it never would
And you feel the helplessness take over you
As you watch yourself breaking down...


This piece is an attempt at expressing certain feelings that lie buried in a corner of everybody's hearts. There are those times when you feel totally helpless, lost and confused. As if you're falling into a deep abyss with no way to escape. The feeling may be a temporary one for some, and a lifelong void for others. But while it lasts, it leaves you gasping for breath, wishing that you'd be dead instead of enduring such excruciating pain. Because it isn't as much the pain of not being able to do anything, as of not really knowing what to do.