DOCTOR DOCTOR EVERYWHERE, BUT NOT A LIFE TO LIVE

After a long time, I met my doctor friend of 15 years. He is getting married soon, so obviously it also became our topic of discussion. When I asked him about the girl, he told me she is also a doctor. And? And she is a good girl. And? Well, I hope she would have the same passions that I do, but I don’t know what she likes.

I knew someday this good friend of mine would end up marrying a doctor girl. His parents always wanted that, as if he is going to bring home a clinic, not a wife. Or perhaps, two doctors will give birth to a doctor baby. Or perhaps, they will have more topics to discuss at home, like new medicines, new procedures, new cases, new patients. Life would be fun.

Now before I proceed further, I want to make it clear that through this post I have no intentions of hurting my friend, because I can’t even think of doing that.

Two doctors, two lawyers, two techies, two entrepreneurs, two any for that matter, can make a happy couple only if they share the same passions, not professionally, but personally. Don’t marry a doctor only to open a clinic, don’t marry a lawyer only to start a law firm, don’t marry a techie only to make an app.

Marry someone only to make a life.

And ya, life is not about making babies. So don’t think that your decision to marry someone because he or she belongs to your profession would have a very positive impact on your child, or it would give an extra edge to your child. In fact, it would only give him or her the extra tension to perform better, to become like ‘daddy and mommy.’

Say for example, “Oh of course beta, you have to score well in Biology because your parents are doctors...” or “Beta, you have to act well because both your parents are actors...”

There are innumerable examples of children going wrong because their parents are passing them a so-called legacy. Look at your TV screens and you will find a live example in the form of Rahul Gandhi. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been a pappu politician if his father, grandmother, great-grandfather had not been in politics. He got that extra tension to carry on the legacy of being a Gandhi. He lost what could have been a great life in his struggle to become a great politician.

Taking the same example, look at Narendra Modi and Arvind Kejriwal who both have become great politicians without that ‘extra edge.’

Abhishek Bachchan, Siddharth Mallya, Tushar Kapoor, Amit Kumar (Kishore Kumar’s son) are all living examples of successful parents’ unsuccessful children because they were born with that extra tension to pursue daddy’s and mommy’s profession.

Having said all this here, I wish my dear friend gets to live his life on his own terms, I wish he has a kickass married life and doesn’t end up talking medicine all the time, and I also wish his children become something that they really want to be.

And ya friend, don’t open your clinic to make it a burden on your children’s shoulders, and hire doctors, not your wife at your clinic.

Two blue ticks and a heavy rotten potato

He was my best friend in the university, and he was simply the best. Most of the days we would travel to our respective Delhi University colleges together, which was some 20 kms from our homes. Many a times we would make the return journey together too. With him, I felt as if my introvert personality had found peace with another introvert personality. I wanted our friendship to be forever, but then, all wishes don’t come true.

My friend, this extremely intelligent but very shy boy, was hiding a secret. I still don’t know how he managed to keep it hidden from me, but nevertheless, he did. When it was time for him to let it out of the bag, he developed cold feet. Our friendship broke, but what hurt more was that I didn’t know why. This was in 2008.

I kept searching for answers without any luck. No, I wasn’t roaming around with a magnifying glass or torch, but I would try to start conversations with common friends. With my busy work schedule, I had to eventually lose hope.

One day, a call came. I would prefer to call it a small atom bomb... my own little boy or fat man. Here was the secret my friend had been hiding for years, and I was being told about it on the phone by someone else. I wouldn’t like to reveal it here, and someone’s secret is not why I am writing this post. My reason is much bigger, if understood.

That day I wanted to run and give my friend one big bear hug. I wanted to tell him how sorry I am for not even being worthy enough of his secret. I couldn’t do any of those. I had somehow obtained his new number, but I didn’t call.

Today, after almost seven years since I met my friend last, I sent him a text on WhatsApp.
There were no sorrys, no tears, no past. I was stuck with something I was reading and the only person I could think of was him. As upfront as I usually am now, I just asked him my query.

Bang came his response, ‘I am sorry, but who is this?’

‘Poorva here. I know you might block me after knowing my name, but my intentions are not wrong. I never intended to not tell you my name. I thought it would come on WhatsApp.’

‘Hi Poorva. Hope you are good.’ The response was delayed, but it came.

‘Ya... I am good, hope you too are. See, I am stuck here, in this problem. Can you help?’

‘Yes... do this...’

‘Thanks man. And listen, I forgive you and hope you forgave me too.’

No response.

‘May I come back for help if you are okay or are you going to block me?’

‘Let me know if required. I will try to help.’

‘Thanks. Good night.’

‘Good night.’

In between my small query, I had solved the big one. This was an apology to a friend I had been wanting to make for years, but never could. Either there was no courage, or a lot of hesitation.

My Baaji once told me a story which has taught me numerous lessons...

A teacher asked her 10-year-old students how many enemies they have. Some said two, some three, and some even ten. The teacher then asked the students to carry as many potatoes as the number of enemies each one had. The students were supposed to carry these potatoes for a month. A week passed, then two weeks. The potatoes started to rot and give a foul smell. Still the students had to continue carrying them for a month. Into the third week, the students could not bear it at all. They requested their teacher if they could stop, to which the teacher taught them the lesson for life:

‘The more potatoes you carried, the more number of days you carried them, the more tired you became. Then came a point when you couldn’t tolerate the rotting smell, but you had to continue carrying them. The potatoes you were carrying represented your enemies, your egos, and your worries. Imagine how your heart must be coping up with so many rotten potatoes you have been carrying for years. Let go of them.’


When I spoke to my friend today, I let go of one of the heaviest and smelliest potatoes I had been carrying for seven years. Though there was no response by him to my apology, the blue ticks on WhatsApp told me he had read it. The good night from his side just confirmed that my message had been conveyed and most probably accepted.

You have no idea how light I am feeling right now, sitting here and writing this post. And if you want to get the slightest idea, identify your potatoes and just let go of them.

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