This is India, a vast country. I am in southern part of India called Rajahmundry, Andhra Pradesh. This landscape is very fertile as it lies in the Godavari delta. Toddy palms and coconut trees are everywhere. We travelled 130 kms deep into remote area surrounded by forests. This place is called Y. Ramavaram. A church had sponsored our camp. It was a small village. There was a weekly market on that day. The tribals had descended to the marked. I was surprised how much modern life had penetrated into their lives. Almost all the youth were clad in brightly coloured tight jeans and readymade shirts. They carried big mobiles. It didn’t look like a remote area. Everything was available there. What I noticed was that people were lean and bone sturdy. The population was healthy! The camp was well attended and I can say India is rocking even in its villages.
When my child was born, I claimed immortality! He was the cynosure of my eyes. I had to nourish him, bathe and play with him. Education was important. It was fun teaching him. Those were the happiest days of my life. My career took a backseat. I was a budding doctor. I feel, if you have children, look after them. He is a young man now. His blossoming gives me tremendous joy. I’ve not done badly. One must try hard to nurture healthy citizens.
At Unframed, the blog of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), curators, program directors, and other staff discuss the museum’s collections and raise awareness around the art scene of Southern California. You’ll read details on new acquisitions and personal takes on exhibitions.
The head of the Chinese and Korean art department, for example, offers a curator’s perspective on the Chinese Paintings from Japanese Collections exhibit, running through July 6. We also enjoy the behind-the-scenes posts complementing the work at LACMA, like this Q&A with teens on a Glenn Ligon exhibit.
The National Media Museum in West Yorkshire in the United Kingdom focuses on the science, technology, and art of the still and moving image. On the blog, writers cover exhibitions and events and offer a glimpse into the museum’s massive archive of objects in its photography, cinematography, and television collections.
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I was brought up in the city of Hyderabad from the 60’s, in the heart of the city. It was extremely cosmopolitan. My neighbours were from the various parts of the country. So, the local language, Telugu, was not spoken by me. My mother tongue is Bengali. We joined a good Christian school. Our education took up in great strides. We celebrated all kinds of festivals, Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Parsi etc. The food was equally varied; the Irani tea, and biscuits, the biryani, the south Indian Idli and Dosas and many other national and international cuisines. The fashion was modern and the mood of the city was upbeat. I did my medical graduation and post graduation from there. I thank this city for making me a Man and what I am today..
Recently, I was ill for the first time in my life. I had to be admitted in a hospital. I developed abscesses on my tummy because of undiagnosed diabetes. Diabetes to me was a revelation. No symptoms and the disease was within me.
Till that time I didn’t realise the agonies a patient has to go through in the hands of unkind doctors. The iatrogenic pain was far more than the disease. I used to dread the dressing time of my wound. The butchers of this hospital, the so-called surgeons would dig their instruments into the raw wound. I would almost faint with excruciating pain. And for hours I would be shaking like a leaf afterwards.
Finally my wounds have healed. I have almost forgotten that traumatic period. Perhaps I had to suffer. But I feel one need not suffer under the hands of unprofessional doctors. Take action and save yourselves. You have the right.