I hate visits to doctors, clinics, hospitals, more so when they involve check-ups for me. I’ll do anything to avoid being under the scanner. Usually, I wait for my ailments to disappear so that I don’t have to pay the doc a dreaded visit. I always fear I’m going to be diagnosed with some incurable disease. And then, doctors don’t ask happy questions.
But this time, a visit to the doc was imminent: the nail on my index finger had first turned blue after I crushed it between the car and its door, and now the stubborn thing was refusing to grow out. Clubbed with the very sensitive skin problems I’ve inherited from my dad and thanks to my insane allergies to allopathic medicines, I found a very reluctant and fearful me headed to a doc – a homeopath.
But frankly, I’ve never really enjoyed a doc’s appointment so much! My new doctor was this chubby, young fellow with a smiling face – not the typically sanitised doctor in a white coat who asks curt, clipped questions about your bowel movement. He made me feel like this very important person giving an interview – a very Simi Garewal–esque interview – on television. He asked me unending questions about me, my lifestyle, my thoughts, my attitude, my sleeping patterns, my dreams, my fears, my passions, none of which seemed to have any direct relation with the problem at hand. He wanted to know about the kind of foods I like, the weather I prefer, the way I react to situations, how I deal with anger… really, the inquisition went on for over an hour. And I didn’t mind it at all: I really do love the sound of my voice, love to talk about myself whenever I can get a good listener. And this doctor was an amazing listener.
I doubt anybody knows so much about me as he does now: that I like summers to winters, love cold beverages, bathe with hot water all 365 days of the year, that I take a duvet while sleeping even on the hottest summer day, close all the doors in my room without feeling suffocated, do not have an OCD, am confused even when I appear extremely decisive, don’t get violently angry – only very, very angry, can eat green leafy vegetables but not green, seedy vegetables, love spending time away from home, sleep the moment I hit the bed, am incapable of over-analysing stuff, like writing, have recently discovered the joys of shopping, prefer to ignore my problems than sulk about them, have strong likes and dislikes… Bored? I told you, he really was an amazing listener!
And at the end of it, I was pronounced a rare creature – “Severe chilly”! Imagine, how it would sound if he said I was a “Severe Hottie“?!
> I’ve been busy attending the wedding of a friend who’s visibly and madly in love with the girl he found for himself some years back. I caught the lovelorn groom look at his beautiful bride with so much more than love, I felt embarassed I’d intruded on that moment. The same day, a totally out-of-love couple around me was celebrating (probably just observing, because there seemed a lot of reluctance to celebrate anything there) their 35th wedding anniversary. And I looked at both of them, the two sets of couple, and wondered what the older one would have been like 35 years ago and what the younger one would be like so many years hence…
>Him: If you were a decision-maker, what would you have done in the IC-814 hijack – released the terrorists or sacrificed the lives of the passengers?
Me: I wouldn’t release the terrorists. I’d sent the forces to combat the hijackers.
Him: And what if I was on that plane?