See you again, but not yet..


Yes, it has been a year! A year since I had written something on this page. A year back, the days when blogging was an obsession, I never even thought I would be able to stay away from it this long. 

image courtesy: sallyrippin.blogspot.com
Those days the the first thing in the morning I did was checking out the comments on my blog. I remember having that uncontrollable urge to return back to blogosphere innumerable times on the same day. Each time spending hours together reading fellow bloggers, commenting, replying and finally trying to boost promotions on blogging networks.

Staring a blog to kill time during my earned leave with 5 posts that had no readers and no comments for almost three months, I never even knew there was a different world out here. Neither did I expect readers nor comments. No that I didn’t want them, but I hardy knew things like that could happen.

The day when a wonderful blogger strolled through my blog and left her first foot print with a lovely comment, marked the beginning of my journey of words. Since then to put up a new post religiously on all Mondays and wait for the first comment had crept into my routine.
image courtesy: graphics18.com


Through the link on the first comment from the wonderful lady, whose writing I continue to miss because she stopped blogging sometime back, I got introduced to this world where I got to meet and make a lot of new friends. Like what happens to a starved man on offering food, I got lost. I got lost in the exquisite delicacy of the varied flavours, ideologies and moods of the blogosphere. I read them all with a voracious appetite until my eyes were tired or I drifted off to sleep. If I've read a post, I made sure I left a comment. Not just for the sake of it, but with the at most dedication and made sure it came right from my heart.

In the mean time, my blog posts increased. When it touched a dozen, I started to get more visitors. One fine morning when I logged in, a few random clicks took me to a famous blog network which let me show case my blog posts. Soon the comments on my blog too started to increase.

In some cases the response was instant, while the majority took hours and days. No matter how late, that was a great time waiting for the first comment on each post. And need I mention the joy I had when I received my first comment on each posts? To be frank, that’s one of the best feelings I’ve ever experienced.

Subsequent comments, be it the one that appreciates my work, or be it criticism, all came with a pile of happiness. When the new and transiting people gave me the sense of growing readership count, the comments and suggestion from regular blog friends gave all the more new level of confidence to attempt the next post.

As days passed, my blog grew in terms of number of posts and readership. When my fellow bloggers did all that they could to nurture it, I got my dedicated set of readers who were generous enough to read all that I wrote and leave a comment within minutes of publishing. I still don’t know if they did that for the sake of it or because they liked reading me.

With the confidence gained after attempting few blog post that touched a 100 comments count and likes, I, though being a person who never wrote poetry all my life, attempted my first poetry. That day, after I clicked the “publish” tab, I still remember how I waited anxiously for the response. That venture that had 3 lines, response comment touched a half century. The encouraging words of all my blog friends and especially of a renowned poetess of the blogosphere who sews magic with words, gave me the confidence to attempt my next poetry, followed by the third and more.

Even though everything looked going good, I was all the more scared if I was actually making a fool out of myself by writing. Did I actually make sense with my writing and the topics I chose to write? I still have no clue. But then, it didn’t matter much to me. In my case, my fingers where simply listening to the flow of my thoughts and to me that’s all that mattered. And so I wrote my heart out without a second thought on the quality of my writing. To be frank I even restricted myself from proof reading before publishing in order to retain the originality.

Then came the time I had to dedicate some time for professional improvement. I had to take up exams and after that I had to get associated with a professional improvement programme. In the beginning I could find ample amount of time to do both. But as time passed, to nurture my hobby and career at the same time turned out to be impossible.

When two passions weighed against each other, like anyone would opt, I opted to spend my time for a better cause. To help myself to help others. While I continued to nurture my career, learning new skills and improving it further, I was eager to know about the happening here on-line.

Thought of not being able to read a lot of blogs I’d loved to follow kept drawing me back here often. Every such occasions, though without leaving a comment in most cases, I made sure I read all those blogs that are close to my heart.

Every time I had been on-line, I also did try to attempt to write something or the other. But almost always I ended up getting a thought block and deleting whatever little I had written. And the very few that I had been successful in partial, are still lying unpublished in the drafts.
 
image courtesy: halifaxmedicalmalpracticelawyerblog.com
With lots of responsibilities at work, I’m kept busy although the day leaving me with barely enough hours to sleep. But then that’s one thing about my profession which I enjoy to do. And being that way ensure that I sleep tight with lots of satisfaction whatever little time I get to spend in bed.

What has been bothering me these days is that I’m not blogging. It’s a fact to which I’m planning to be selectively deaf and blind for some time. My life taught me, I need to sacrifice something to gain something else. May be in my case, at this moment, it’s going to be my passion, Blogging.
 
I’m not even sure if I will be able to post any time soon. But one thing is for sure, I definitely will continue to blog. Until next time. See you all. Hugs. 
 .....Bithun
N.B : I always wanted to remain anonymous. I thought that would give me the freedom to write anything that came to my mind without having to restrict myself. I also wanted my readers to be those who chose to read me and not merely because they knew me in person. So I chose a pseudonym- LeoPaw. Today  I chose to share with you my identity - Here's my Facebook profile (bithun.balan).

Maternal Instinct

Wiping the sleepy eyes and looking at the rising sun through the window, Kashmi realized she was already late. It was getting tougher for her to stop worrying about her little baby at home and resist the urge to leave. But then, she knew she hasn't yest finished at work and might have to stay back until she's completed.

It's just one month since Kashmi gave birth to a baby girl. As a single mother with no one to look after, she had no other choice but to get back to work at the earliest. Following delivery, the day she felt she could move around without much difficulty, Kashmi got back to her routine. Had she chosen not to, she would starve and so would her newborn.

Every evening, as she left for job, she would leave the child with the old lady with whom she shared a small hut. The old lady, who once lived the life of Kashmi, would look after the kid until the mother took over and then leave to scavenge the near by town. In return, Kashmi was happy to share a part of whatever little food she could manage with the old lady.


In most cases, Kashmi is back home soon after the conical speakers of the nearby temple blurted out the ritual Suprabhatham. On reaching home, the first thing she would do was to put her sweet little baby girl to her breast.  

The sense of motherhood she felt as the baby suckled on those breasts, drowned her in a sense of well being and made her feel at the top of the world. This would help her forget all the hardships she faced in earning just enough to eat as much as she needed to nurse her baby.


Footprints

Image courtesy: http://hersilent-thoughts.blogspot.com
On this tortuous lane of life,
I serve all those baffled souls.
Staying witness en this route,
Let me warn you once or more.

Route that brought you until here,
Splits in two and takes you home.
Roads are not as plain as past;
Careful when you take your step.

Having traveled miles at ease,
This might look that simple too.
In your quest for perennial light,
Things are more that you must know.

Last Words - An Unfinished Deathbed Talk.


This is an excerpt from the diary entry I made on the morning after a busy duty, a few years back.

I'm about to finish my 24 hours duty. Will have to pull on till Dr X turns up and can return back to my quarters. Yesterday was hectic and not a single minute I could sleep last night. I had 4 patients in the ICU, 53 patients in the ward, 20 new admissions and 7 causality calls. God alone knows, how many hours it's going to take in handing over the previous night to Dr X.
Image courtesy: kevinmd.com

My dear diary, I'm sad. A patient admitted yesterday for close monitoring and evaluation in our FMW is no more. I know, this is not the first time we are losing patients. I have not mentioned about any of them after the first month of my clinical years. But this incident was unique and heart breaking.  

Last night, after my causality call at 12.05 am, I was walking through the corridor of Female Medical Ward (FMW) when I saw light in the last cubical. As I crossed the nursing station, the ward sister woke up from her midnight trance and joined me thinking I was on a midnight rounds.

Teachers and Tortures.


[This is a piece of writing that I found in one of my old notebooks. Though I wrote it in pain, distress and hatred, today, this teaches me an invaluable lesson as a budding medical teacher. Sharing it with you all  as it is. No offence for the words used. 
A note for the teacher in the context: If you haven't changed, and wish to change at-least now, do it, for you were a total failure then . Else stop teaching.]